The Divine Comedy
by Tigereye77
Summary: Sequel to Reckoning. As Emily Prentiss gets reintegrated back into the team, another shadow from her past threatens to rip her away from her family and Hotch.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Welcome to the sequel to my story "Reckoning"! It would probably help you a lot to read that story first since this story takes place immediately after it and makes many references to the events that took place in that story. But if you don't, just a quick summary, "Reckoning" was my version of how Emily comes back and a resolution to the Doyle situation. At that end of that story, Doyle was dead, Emily was injured, Hotch was determined to pursue her and invited her to stay with him as she recuperated and was officially back among the living. Things were strained with the team, but what also surfaced is that Emily has her own issues with the rest of the members and hints that there was something more lurking beneath the surface. **

**If you're following my other stories you're probably thinking, "My God, woman! You're starting another?" Those other stories are actually almost done, so that is my excuse. This story, well, it's going to be a long one, so get ready to hunker down and I promise a lot of those bread crumbs I planted in "Reckoning", get fleshed out and explained here. **

**And while there'll be a major case in this story and it involves delving into Emily's issues, I will say that the first couple of chapters will be more about getting her re-established with the team. But the title is a hint of what will be coming. For those who may not know, "Comedy" can also mean a poem that begins in disaster and ends in happiness. So keep that in mind. Now on with the story!**

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><p><em>In the middle of the journey of our life, I came to myself in a dark wood where the straight way was lost.<em>

~ _The Divine Comedy_, Dante Alighieri

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><p>Aaron Hotchner sank back into his desk chair with a sigh of relief. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the peace of his quiet office. After six hours with the Director of the FBI, three deputy directors and six various department heads, not to mention the heads of Legal an d Communications, it was finally decided that Emily Prentiss will be reinstated in her old position as an Agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, assigned to the Behavorial Analysis Unit under the supervision of Supervisory Special Agent in Charge, Aaron Hotchner.<p>

Just exactly how Hotch wanted it.

It wasn't without a battle. The FBI felt that their hand was forced and somehow manipulated by the press leak. It wasn't that they didn't want Prentiss back. Profilers didn't simply grow on trees and Emily was far too talented to not have in the Unit. But they wanted her back on their terms. However, with the news story running strong of how FBI Special Agent Emily Prentiss helped take out one of the most wanted terrorist in the world, what was the FBI going to do? Perhaps they could have forced a retirement on her. She had been through a traumatic experience, but that idea was nixed. Too high of a probability she would simply go to another agency and how would that look? That there was something wrong with the FBI if their number one heroine left it to work for someone else.

Then someone suggested turning her into the "face" of the FBI and merely keeping her on the publicity circuit, drumming up good will and press for the Agency. She was after all, a diplomat's daughter and knew how to conduct herself in public and for the press. Someone said she could be the next Sandra Bullock in _Miss Congeniality 2_. That suggestion had been met with cold stares though Hotch had no idea what the film reference meant.

Finally, they agreed to what Hotch had been pushing for, Emily would be back on his team in her old position, doing what she was born to do: profiling criminals to save lives.

Not everyone was completely satisfied with that idea, but they had no choice. After dismissing the others, the Director kept Hotch back. When they were alone, the older man had looked at Hotch with his piercing eyes and warned in his lazy Southern drawl, "I don't like being backed into a corner, Agent Hotchner. Especially not by someone in my own shop."

Hotch's spine had stiffened at the accusation. "Sir," he said crisply, his voice just bordering on insubordination, "Neither I nor anyone on my team was involved in that press leak."

The Director continued his intense scrutiny of Hotch and then finally grunted. "Maybe not," he admitted, "But it all worked out to your satisfaction. Oh, don't look surprise. I could see that smug, pleased look on your face when the decision was made that Agent Prentiss would be back on your team." He gave Hotch a sly, appreciative look. "She is very beautiful."

The Director watched in grim amusement as Hotch's face darkened. He waved his hand before the younger man could say something that he might regret, "If you keep it out of the Bureau, its fine. But the second your personal life starts dripping into the work, I'll have Prentiss transferred out of your unit and doing the Miss Congeniality Tour like Brubaker suggested." He picked up his glasses and another file, clearly dismissing Hotch.

For a second, Hotch merely stood there, blinking in surprise. When the Director continued reading his file, Hotch finally turned around and left the room. His steps to the elevator were slow, but his mind was going a mile a minute. Did he just get permission to pursue a relationship with Emily, fraternization rules be damned? From the Director no less?

By the time he reached the BAU floor, his steps were lighter and he had the faintest trace of a smile on his face. His team noticed immediately and Morgan called out a one word question,

"Hotch?"

The dark-haired agent paused and decided that his team needed to know what was going on. The anxiety around them was palatable and he didn't wish to torture them. "The Director has agreed to ask Emily back to the Bureau and her place on the team." He was happy to see looks of relief on the others' faces. Perhaps Emily's re-integration back onto the team will be much easier than he thought.

"When is she coming back?" Garcia asked eagerly.

"The offer hasn't been made yet," Hotch explained. "Plus she's still recuperating from her injuries, so it'll be at least a few weeks."

"Just exactly where is Emily?" Rossi asked, staring intently at Hotch. He seemed more measured in his reaction to the news. Hotch made a mental note to ask his old friend about that.

There was absolutely nothing inappropriate with what happened last night, but Hotch still felt reluctant to tell them she was staying with him. However, if he didn't, he had no doubt that they would begin a search for her immediately, concerned that she had disappeared on them again. He couldn't put them through that and he didn't want them to blame Emily.

"Last night Prentiss was discharged from the hospital. Since she had no place to stay, I invited her to my house. I do have a guestroom." He added that last part to make it sound as if was the most logical solution and Hotch stubbornly believed it was.

By the looks on everyone's faces, it probably wasn't.

"Emily is staying with you?" Rossi said slowly. His reaction coupled with his tempered response to Emily returning to the team sent off warning bells in Hotch's head.

"Yes." Hotch's one word response held just the slightest hint of a dark warning. Rossi caught it as did Derek, the other person who didn't seem particularly happy that Emily was staying at his home.

"That's great!" Garcia gushed, oblivious to the tension between the three men. "Sergio is with you so she'll be with him again. It's totally away from the press so no one will bother her. And she's got lots of room to recover, including that nice deck you have. She won't be cooped up like she would have been at my place."

Hotch watched as Derek seemed unconvinced, but the younger man simply remained quiet. Dave, on the other hand, was giving him a piercing look. Hotch, not wanting to hear what the other men had to say simply nodded his head indicating an end to the conversation before turning on his heel and making his way to his office.

He had been sitting in his peaceful silence for about five minutes when there was a quiet knock on his door. Before he could even call out a come in, the door was opening and Rossi was stepping through. He closed the door behind him and regarded Hotch with troubled eyes.

"Something bothering you, Dave?" he asked quietly when the other man simply sat down opposite him and stared.

"Emily staying with you."

Hotch smothered a sigh of irritation. Of all the people he thought who would have issues, Rossi was at the bottom of that list, with only Garcia being further down. "What is wrong with Emily staying with me?"

"Aaron, I know you, and I know you've finally pulled your head out of your ass and realize what an amazing woman Emily Prentiss is and you've decided you want her."

"My head is free of my ass. I realize Emily is absolutely amazing. I've decided to pursue her. Right, so what's the problem if my ass-free head is smart enough to realize I would be a fool to let someone as wonderful as Emily slip from my grasp?"

His voice was calm, but Hotch was using the word "ass" so Rossi knew the other man was at the point of extreme irritation. Others would typically back off, but not Dave Rossi, especially not with something as important as this. He didn't want to see anyone hurt, not Emily and not Hotch.

"Because Emily isn't ready for it, and you know it," Rossi replied calmly. "She's spent nearly two years in hiding, running from Doyle's goons and ruining his network. She's had to sleep with one eye open, constantly on alert. She was just hospitalized. She's got to cope with all of us and how we'll react to her. Hotch, the last thing she needs is another complication."

Rossi saw the younger man's features tightened and then after a few seconds, they relaxed into resigned lines and Hotch sighed.

"I know I can't pursue her now, but I can be her friend and offer her a safe haven," Aaron replied as he leaned back into his chair. "She needs a place where she can heal."

"And if you can offer that, great, but you can't push your own agenda and wants and desires on her. Not now." He saw a flicker of guilt in the other man's eyes. "What? What did you do?"

"Well, I may have sorted of manipulated things to get her to stay more than one night," Hotch admitted.

Rossi narrowed his eyes at the other man and went through a variety of scenarios but thought of the one that would make Emily feel like she couldn't say no to staying at the Hotchner house. "Jack. You used Jack."

"I didn't use him," Hotch protested.

"No, but you probably used his desire for Emily to stay to convince, or guilt her into doing so," Rossi shot back. He sighed. "_That_ is why I'm not thrilled with this arrangement."

"Staying with me is the best option for her," Hotch returned stubbornly. "No one will bother her at my house, I have the room, and there'll be someone with her if she needs help."

"Who's with her now?"

"I'll be with her most of the time and I'm just a phone call away," Hotch amended. "Look, where else would you want her to stay? With you?"

"I'm a bit more neutral territory," Rossi pointed out. "I won't push her."

Hotch's eyes narrowed at his old friend. Rossi nearly let out a snort of frustration. _Was Aaron serious?_ The older profiler could see the jealous and territorial gleam in Hotch's eyes. He had it much worse than Rossi thought and under any other circumstances, he would be encouraging his old friend and demanding to be the best man at their wedding, but right now, Emily did not need Hotch romantically pursuing her. Did he not understand that?

"She's staying where she is until she's ready to be back on her own feet," Hotch said softly, his tone not fooling Rossi at all. There was steel underneath that mildness and woe to the person who tried to upset Hotchner's plans.

Rossi sighed in resignation but he issued one more warning. "Fine, but do not, I repeat, do not push her Hotch. If you do, you might find yourself doing more harm than good and maybe not being able to reach her at all. We have our issues to work through with this Doyle mess, but remember, Emily's got her issues with us too, and that includes you."

"My only concern right now is to make sure Emily recovers, physically, mentally and emotionally," Hotch informed his old friend. His face softened slightly and he added. "Dave, I care enough about her to not hurt her. I hear what you're saying and know that my only goal right now is to make sure she's all right."

Rossi knew that Hotch would never deliberately hurt Emily in any way, but he also knew the power of emotions and how they could make even the best intentions go awry. He also knew if anyone could control his emotions, it would be Hotch, but he's seen first hand that where Emily Prentiss was concerned, Hotch was sometimes anything but his usual, in control self. All he could do right now was to watch the couple and be prepared to help wherever and whenever he could.

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><p><strong>AN 2: Thank you for those who nominated my two stories, "A Rose By Any Other Name" and "Reckoning" (which this story is the sequel to!) for the Profilers' Choice Awards. The final ballot is up so you can vote if you wish. forum. fanfiction. net/topic /74868/ 51253709/1/ (just eliminate the spaces to make the link work). Voting ends November 30th. There are a lot of good stories nominated, maybe some you haven't read before so it might also give you an opportunity to discover a new story.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you for the comments. Like I said in the beginning, the first part is really about re-integrating Emily back onto the team so you might find things a bit slow-going before the story hits the major case. But I will be sprinkling clues throughout so you might be able to figure things out a bit on your own. Hope you enjoy!**

Emily felt a bit at loose ends once she was alone in Hotch's house. She washed the few breakfast dishes, familiarized herself with the kitchen and the layout of the house and then there was nothing left to do. Well, there was plenty for her to do, the first being what was she going to do with the rest of her life.

The first order of business was to start the process in having herself declared "undead". In one of her visits, her mother had said she had already started the process. Emily needed an update plus she really needed to let her mother know where she was staying. They may have had their issues in the past and even though Elizabeth knew about her faked death, Emily couldn't help but feel guilty for putting her mother through this ordeal.

She picked up the phone and dialed her Mother's direct line. It was picked up on the second ring.

"Agent Hotchner?"

Emily was startled that her mother recognized Hotch's number and a frown wrinkled her brow. "Mother? It's me, Emily."

"Oh thank, God!" her mother breathed out. "When I went by the hospital this morning they told me you were gone and no one knew where." There was a pause and some of the franticness was gone from her mother's voice replaced by a cool, tightness that Emily could not figure out, "You're staying with Agent Hotchner?"

There was something about her tone, the fact that she knew immediately that she was calling from Hotch's home that sent off warning bells in Emily's head. She shifted slightly on the couch she was sitting on, trying to get rid of the uncomfortable feeling creeping along her spine.

"It's temporary, Mother. Just until I can get access to my funds and find my own place. I called to let you know where I was for now, and to see how things are progressing in establishing my place among the living." She said the last part lightly, trying to inject a little humor into the conversation, but it fell horribly flat.

Her mother's breeding chose to ignore Emily's feeble attempt and she moved smoothly into the most pressing business. The paperwork would be finalized and processed within the next few days. In about a week, everything should be completed. In the meantime, Elizabeth had secured some funds for Emily to use. Emily could move into a hotel if she wished, but Elizabeth thought staying with Agent Hotchner had its advantages.

"The press is completely rabid about you, Emily," her mother informed her. "They've been camped out on the estate since the news broke. Agent Hotchner is sufficiently off their radar where they wouldn't think of going to his home. You could avoid them until this story dies down." The silence on Emily's end prompted Elizabeth to ask, "Unless, you'd rather not be in Agent Hotchner's company?" There was a distinct note of curiosity in her mother's voice.

"I don't like being a burden on him," Emily finally supplied. "And he has his son to think about too." She sighed in frustration.

"There is an option, but it would still require you staying with Agent Hotchner for a few days at least as its being prepared."

"What's that?"

"Aunt Priscilla's brownstone in Georgetown. It's still in your name and the caretaker has made sure it hasn't fallen to rack and ruin, but it will take a few days to make sure the utilities are running properly, a thorough cleaning, and so on. Unless you immediately find an apartment that's fully furnished, putting the brownstone into order would probably be the fastest option."

Emily chewed on her bottom lip as she thought of the brownstone she had inherited from one of her great-aunts. It was on the edge of Georgetown and sat on a piece of land that was bigger than most properties in that area. The house itself was large and with the larger than postage stamp sized backyard that was common to houses in the District, it had felt too much for one person so she had never considered living there.

But she did love the house. With interesting nooks and crannies, it was both graceful and solid. It also boasted a state of the art security system. Her aunt had been a collector and many of her antiques and collectibles could have been pieces in some of the finest museums in the world. That type of security was looking pretty appealing to Emily.

"Emily?" her mother asked. "What do you want to do?"

What did she want to do? She couldn't stay here with Hotch and Jack, though she a part of her found that scenario incredibly appealing. She ruthlessly quashed any of those thoughts. It wasn't meant to be. Too much had happened to her and there was no need to drag the Hotchners through it.

Hotch had been acting strangely the last twenty-four hours, making Emily very uneasy. He had become unpredictable and right now, Emily craved predictability. She had lived with too many surprises over the last two years and she wanted a break from them. And Emily had a suspicion regarding what was behind Hotch's changed behavior and it frightened her. It was too soon, too much and it was simply easier to pretend nothing was there and the best way to do that was to get out Hotch's proximity.

"I think Aunt Priscilla's brownstone sounds like a good idea," Emily replied. "Can you get things started?"

"Of course." Elizabeth was thrilled that she could do something for her fiercely independent daughter. "It you could give me a list of other things you might need for the house, I can make sure they're there waiting for you. Is there anything you need now?"

Emily glanced down at the pajamas and robe she still wore. Aside from two changes of clothing and a few toiletries, she had nothing else. She smiled a wry grin that was apparent to her mother from the tone of her voice. "Actually, if I can get some of the money that's been advanced to me, that would be great. I'm sort of lacking in the necessities department."

"I can go with you-," Elizabeth began to offer.

"Mother, you just said the press were camped out in front of your house. The second you leave they'll follow you straight here and that kind of ruins the whole safe from the press argument for me staying with Hotch." Emily sighed.

There was a silence at the other end of the line, but Elizabeth finally said, "Of course. You're right." There was another pause. "I'll have Jonathan take the money over to you today. It might take a few hours." Jonathan was one of the Ambassador's assistants.

"That should be fine. I don't think I'll be going shopping until tomorrow anyway." She hesitated a moment and then asked, "Mother, how did you know I was calling from Agent Hotchner's house?"

The pause on Elizabeth's end was extremely brief, but it was long enough to raise Emily's suspicion.

"I've spoken to Agent Hotchner several times trying to ascertain what he knows about your situation and he has been calling me to get updates on your condition," Elizabeth replied smoothly.

It was entirely plausible, but also a complete lie. While Hotch was kept from her for several days, AJ was not. If he would check in with anyone about Emily's condition, it would be with her, not her mother. Elizabeth Prentiss also did not need Aaron Hotchner to tell her about what was going on with her case. She had her own, much higher level connections.

Which left Emily with only one question: What was going on between her Mother and Hotch?

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><p><strong>AN 2: This is one of those parts where it is helpful to have read "Reckoning" to explain what is going on between Hotch and Ambassador Prentiss. For those who have, I'm sure you can predict Emily's reaction when she finds out.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: And here's the next part. Thank you for your kind comments and thank you to those readers who voted for my CM/NCIS story as Best Crossover Fic in the Criminal Minds Profiler's Choice Awards. I'm touched and honored. I hope you enjoy this story as well. **

Dave and Morgan's concerns over Emily's current living arrangements put a damper on what should have been a good day for Hotch. Emily was back and safe at his house. The FBI was willing to reinstate her into his unit. The Director gave Hotch is permission to ignore the fraternization rules. Overall, things were falling into place for Aaron Hotchner, except for the two men who knew without a doubt how he felt about Emily. And these were also two men he could honestly say likely knew the beautiful object of his affections better than he did. All this caused Hotch no amount of irritation and frustration and those feelings were not alleviated when Derek later cornered the Unit Chief to express his opinions on the matter.

"It's not that I don't think you and Emily aren't good for each other," Derek began. "You are. But come on, man. She's been through too much to also take on a new relationship. You've got to give her time."

Hotch glared at his subordinate and wondered when his life had become public domain. All he was trying to do was help Emily out in a difficult time and every move he made was being unnecessarily scrutinized. Even though he knew Morgan was still angry at Prentiss, the man's protective instinct of her ran deeper than his anger, and right now, it was rearing it's overly nosy head. It was that special relationship between the two younger agents, built upon their close proximity as partners, a relationship Hotch didn't have with the beautiful woman. Hotchner had never resented the other man until now.

"I can assure you, Morgan, I do not intend to seduce Emily while she's staying at my house," Hotch bit out with a touch of frost in his voice.

"It's not about that, Hotch. It's about going too fast. Hotch, you are the classic alpha male. You see what you want and you're going to go after it, or her, full throttle and Emily isn't ready to deal with that just yet. Hell, after everything that's happened, are you even ready?"

"It might surprise you, Morgan, but I already know that," came Hotch's dry reply. He sighed loudly. "All I'm offering is a place for her to stay until she's back on her feet. That's all. And as for what I feel and want, I assure you, I am quite clear in my mind what that is."

"You want it to be more. More than just colleagues. More than just friends," Morgan pointed out.

"When she's ready," Aaron stressed, knowing Emily's emotional state wasn't the only sticking point for Morgan. While the temptation to push Emily was irresistible, Hotch knew that was the worst thing he could do right now. But that didn't mean he couldn't have her with him, where he knew she was safe and protected. Where he could see her and reassure himself she was alive and well. The horror of the last two years was still fresh and sharp in his memory. Her presence in his house was just as much for him as it as for her, that he did admit.

"I promise I won't do anything until Emily is ready for it. Maybe you don't believe me, Morgan, but I do care about her and the last thing I want is for her to get hurt." Hotch understood there was much more behind Morgan's doubts. While Hotch knew there were no romantic feelings between his two agents, they were still close, and like himself, Morgan was an alpha male. Of all the team members, it would have been most likely that Emily would turn to the younger man for help, but she hadn't when she needed it the most. And now, when she was vulnerable, another man, Hotch himself, was riding to her rescue, not Morgan. It bothered Derek. And Hotch had to admit, if Emily was turning from him now and towards the other man, it would bother him. He understood where Morgan was coming from, but that was something Derek had to deal with himself.

Right now, Emily would be staying with him and Derek would just have to live with it. From the expression on his face, Hotch knew he was still unhappy with that situation, but to Hotch, Morgan's over-protective feelings were far down on his list of concerns. After an unhappy Derek left his office, Hotch stared out into the bullpen at the desk that had remained empty all this time but would soon be occupied by the woman he had decided was going to become a very important part of his and his son's lives.

When Hotch came home it was to the delicious smells of homemade chili. He took a deep, appreciative breath and also detected something that smelled suspiciously like baked bread. Homemade. Curious and with his stomach rumbling he made his way to the kitchen where he heard the low murmur of voices.

"And the class voted to call him Mr. Wiggles!" Jack said excitedly.

"Mr. Wiggles?" Hotch asked from the doorway of the kitchen where he stood watching Jack perched on a kitchen stool talking excitedly as Emily stood by the stove, stirring the chili in a large pot.

"Daddy!" Jack screamed out as he hopped off the chair and rushed to give his father a hug.

"Jack's teacher got a new guinea pig for the classroom," Emily explained as she replaced the lid on the pot and turned around.

"Ms. Harrison said that we can take turns bringing Mr. Wiggles home for the weekend. But we hafta ask first. Please, Daddy?" Jack looked up at his father with his large, puppy dog eyes.

"Er," Hotch began, not certain about having a rodent in the house. He wasn't particularly found of those small creatures. "Jack, I don't know if it's a good idea to bring Mr. Wiggles home for the weekend while Sergio is still here."

"Oh," Jack frowned. "But he'll be in a cage and I can keep Sergio away from him."

"We'll talk about it later," Hotch promised, but set on discouraging Jack from having Mr. Wiggles as a weekend houseguest. "But right now, why don't you go wash your hands. I think dinner might be ready soon?" He looked inquiringly at Emily who nodded her head.

"In a few minutes. Just enough time for you to wash up," she said to the little boy. She smiled as she saw him raced off, noticing that young Hotchner never walked when he could run.

"It smells great, but you didn't have to cook, Emily," Hotch said as he moved closer towards her as though to look at the bubbling chili on the stove, but really to be closer to her. The entire scene of Emily in such a domestic environment, cooking dinner and interacting with his son, it touched a deep-seated desire within him that his promise to Rossi and Morgan to not rush things was proving harder to keep.

"It's not that big of a deal, just some chili," she shrugged as she shuffled slightly off to the side, and away from him.

"And homemade bread too?" He nodded at the two loaves that were on a rack on the counter, noticing her movement, but deciding not do anything about it yet.

"Not much else to do until they finish up the paperwork to 'undead' me," she replied wryly as she started to open up the cabinets to get the dinner plates.

"Did you find out how long that would take?" Hotch asked casually as he helped her set the table.

"Mmm, hmmm, I spoke to my mother. She said it should take a few days." Emily placed the last fork down and looked at Hotch who was filling the water glasses. "What surprised me was that she knew your number. Actually thought it was you calling her. Why does my mother know your number, Hotch?"

There was just the slightest pause in his movements as he carefully poured the water into the last glass and set both it and the pitcher down. "Knew my number?" he asked, his voice innocent even as he cringed. He knew Emily was smart enough to see the delaying tactic he was using. Not his brightest move. He shrugged. "Probably because I've called her from here a few times to discuss your transition and status. I'm sure your mother's office probably just programmed in my number to caller ID."

It was a probable lie and Hotch internally winced when telling it. If he wanted to start a relationship with Emily, he wasn't off to a good start by lying to her about his dealings with her mother. However, the alternative might just be as explosive. He remembered all those years back when Emily first joined the BAU and how her voice, face and body would tighten when talking about her mother or the politics that was do deeply embedded into the DNA of her family. If she knew now that he had made some secret deal with her mother to assure Emily's presence back at the BAU, Hotch knew it would greatly anger the brunette.

He even wondered if the deal was now necessary. At the time he had struck the agreement, Emily's fate was still unknown and Easter hadn't pulled his stunt with the press yet. Because of the publicity, the Bureau felt pressured to bring Emily back into the fold. With the Director involved, he hadn't even needed anyone to run interference with Strauss. His agreement with the Ambassador may have been all for naught and possibly even detrimental in his pursuit of Emily.

Hotch glanced up at Emily and say that same slight tightening of her features that he remembered from years ago in his office when she told him how much she hated politics and he realized with a sinking heart that he may have made a fool's deal with her mother.

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><p><strong>AN: So TVLine is running a law enforcement crushes tournament and course they've pitted Emily against JJ. Emily is my favorite so I have to make a pitch for her, so go vote for Prentiss! www. tvline. com /2011/12/ law-enforcement-crushes- tournament-criminal-nikita/ (Just get rid of the spaces).**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Apologies for the long delay but the month of January has been insane at work and it doesn't look like it's going to be slowing down any time soon. So I'm trying to sneak in some writing whenever I can. At least this part is long and I did warn folks that this will probably be a very long story because I need to work Emily back into the fold, but there will be a major case somewhere down the line that will help reveal a lot more about Emily's trust issues and her past. Enjoy!**

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><p>Hotch was lying and Emily knew it. Something was going on and every one of her senses was on high alert. She also couldn't help but feel sad as well.<p>

She had always regarded Aaron Hotchner with the highest respect. He was an honorable man, who would always do the right thing, one of the few men she knew who could and did rise above the political machinations they were exposed to every day. It was this respect, this idea that he embodied some type of purity that she tried so hard to protect and make sure Doyle never touched him, his child or the team. She was already tainted, but that didn't mean the rest of them needed to be.

But now, finding out that her ideal image of Aaron Hotchner may not be so ideal, was a bitter pill to swallow, especially since it involved her mother in some way. Emily had joined first the CIA and then the FBI to get away from her Mother's world, but it seemed as it if it was destined to follow her everywhere.

"I see," was her soft reply, but it was heavy with meaning for both of them. Hotch glanced at her sharply and tried to read her mood, but she had shut down on him, putting on one of the best poker faces he had ever come across and truth be told, had never been able to read with 100% accuracy.

They finished setting the table in silence and while Emily went to go get the chili, Jack came bouncing back into the room, distracting Hotch from going after her. Dinner was a quiet affair for the adults with Jack providing most of the chatter, not sensing the tension that had settled between his father and Emily. The food was excellent and Hotch would normally have been devouring it, especially since Emily made everything for them from scratch, but he couldn't rid his stomach of the gnawing worry that the fragile relationship he had begun to re-establish with her had been ripped apart. She was quiet, only responding when Jack directly addressed her. She was also back to pushing her food around her plate, causing Hotch to frown at her in concern. She was far too thin for his liking.

Dessert consisted of ice cream and the leftover brownies. Hotch insisted on doing the dishes and clean up since Emily cooked and she put up no argument, causing him to be even more worried. He expected at least some token protest. But she had simply nodded and went with Jack to sit in the living room as he regaled her with stories of Sergio's adventures.

When Hotch finished his kitchen duties and came into the living room, Emily was seated on the couch watching as Jack lay on the floor stroking a purring Sergio's stomach. For a moment, her face was unguarded and there was such a soft gentleness to it that Hotch felt his heart clench. He wouldn't push her now, but he grew more certain with each passing second that he couldn't let Emily Prentiss out of his life ever again.

She sensed him watching her and her face smoothed out into that cool, bland, impersonal mask she wore often. Emily turned her head to look inquiringly at him. Hotch came forward to sit next to her on the couch. He saw her tense for a moment and then relaxed when she saw there was a full cushion space between them. He couldn't help but feel a little hurt that she didn't want him next to her, but hid his feelings.

"So, aside from making an absolutely delicious meal, what did you do today?" Hotch began lightly on a very neutral topic.

Emily shrugged. "Cooked. Did some laundry. I made some phone calls. You already know I spoke to my mother. Actually, laundry and my conversation with the Ambassador leads me to a favor I'd like to ask you."

Hotch felt a spurt of renewed hope. Emily didn't ask favors easily. Granted, he was probably the only option she had now, but a favor was a favor. "Of course. Name it."

"I was wondering if I could borrow your car for a few hours tomorrow? There are a few necessities I'll need to get. My mother sent over some funds today. If it's an inconvenience, I'm sure I can catch a cab."

He frowned at the mention of the cab. "Don't be ridiculous. Of course you can have the car. And a driver and a very capable assistant to help you get whatever you need. Right, Jack?"

"We get to go out with Emmy tomorrow? Cool!" Jack said enthusiastically.

Emily's brows furrowed together and while she didn't want to say anything in front of Jack, Hotch knew she wasn't pleased with his offer. "That really isn't necessary," Emily replied, a little stiffly. "I'm sure you two must have other plans for the weekend and the last thing you want to do is spend it shopping at the mall with me."

"We don't mind," Hotch returned easily. "There are a couple of things I need to get Jack anyway and I have to pick up some stuff too. I've just been putting it off, but now I can go and get it done. We'll go, shop for a few hours, grab some lunch. It'll be a nice outing."

"Please, Emmy! I didn't get to spend any time with you today!" Jack pleaded as he got up from the floor to lean against Emily's knees.

It was a perfectly reasonable, a perfectly logical plan, but Emily couldn't help but feel that Hotch had manipulated the entire thing in some way, just like he had last night. She wondered again just when he got so sneaky. How could she say no to the pleading eyes of the little boy that leaned so trustingly against her knees?

She smiled weakly. "Okay."

"Great, that's settled. And you know what that means, buddy," Hotch said to Jack. "If we're going to do all this shopping tomorrow, it means it's time for you to go to bed."

"Daddy!"

"No arguments," Hotch said firmly. "Say good night to Emily."

The pout wasn't working so Jack clambered up onto the couch next to Emily to throw his arms around her neck and give her a good night kiss on her cheek. Touched and surprised, she gently returned the hug.

"Night, Emmy!" He lowered his voice though Hotch could hear him clearly. "At the mall, they have chocolate donuts with peanut butter and jelly inside of them."

"Ah, well maybe your Daddy will buy you one tomorrow," she whispered loudly back to him.

Jack nodded sagely while Hotch rolled his eyes. He thought those donuts were absolutely disgusting but his son always insisted on having one and then he would crash an hour later from the sugar rush. Another reason Hotch hated the mall.

But for tomorrow, it was just what he needed in continuing to build his relationship with Emily.

"Come on, buddy," Hotch said as he stooped down and scooped up his son in his arms. Jack screamed in delight as Hotch held him out in his arms, gently swooping him through the air like an airplane. Jack screamed in delight and Emily couldn't help but smile at the picture the Hotchners made. As Hotch started to climb the stairs, Jack now leaning against his shoulder, the little boy called out, "Night, Emmy!" Sergio padded after them to take what he had now regarded as his nightly spot, the extra pillow on Jack's bed.

While she waited for Hotch, Emily stood up and walked over to the front windows. She stared out into the quiet street watching the leaves on the trees rustle in the wind that had picked up that evening. Though the house was warm, she suddenly felt chilled and shivered.

"Cold?" he said surprising her from behind. She suddenly felt something warm and smelling like Hotch draped over her shoulders and realized it was a sweater.

Emily bit back a startled exclamation, mentally kicking herself for not being aware of his approach. She used to be better than that. She was in Paris. No one could get the drop on her. Less than 24 hours alone with Hotch and suddenly all that training, all that alertness was gone. She had relaxed and let her guard down.

_It's because he makes you feel safe and you know you are safe with him._

The little voice in her head sounded suspiciously like Penelope Garcia. Great, Garcia was her own personal Jimminy Cricket.

She forced herself to give him a thin smile to cover up her skittishness. "Thanks."

Hotch regarded her thoughtfully, but simply said, "You didn't say what else you talked about with your mother or was it only about funds and paperwork?"

"Actually, there was something else," Emily replied, moving away from him and the window. She walked over to the bookcase and once again her eye fell on the title of _that_ book sitting on his shelf. Her step faltered slightly, something Hotch didn't miss, but then she turned around with a cheerful look on her face. "Looks like you and Jack will have this place back to yourselves next week."

He frowned and moved closer to her. "What do you mean?"

"I have a place to live. My mother reminded me that my aunt left me her place in Georgetown. It's been in the family for over a century. It's been kept up, but it needs a thoroughly cleaning and the utilities switched back on before I can live there. I should be able to move in sometime next week."

Hotch stared blankly at her. She was leaving so soon? He thought he had her for at least two weeks. He was going to offer to help her find a new place, making sure they took their time in doing so but this revelation that Emily owned this other piece of property that was essentially waiting and ready for her threw all his plans and ideas into chaos.

"Oh. Well…that's great," he said in an uncertain voice. "But you know you're welcome to stay here for as long as you like. You might find it easier to have some company around you."

"I'll be fine," she said firmly. "It'll be good to have my own place again. I appreciate everything you've done for me, Hotch. This was a much better alternative than staying with one of my parents."

After having met and had dealings with both Emily's parents, Hotch silently agreed, but he had hoped he would have her with him for a while longer. It would have given them time to reconnect without the pressures of the outside world. And selfishly, both he and Jack simply liked having her in the house with them. He loved his boy dearly, but sometimes he wished he had another adult to talk to in the evenings after Jack was in bed and he was trying to unwind from a long day.

"When will you go?" he asked quietly.

There was a subdued quality to his voice that for some reason made Emily feel guilty, but for what, she wasn't sure. While Hotch was unfailingly polite and would never say anything, houseguests _did_ get old after a while. And more importantly to her, Emily wanted to be back on her own feet. She didn't want to sit around and wait for other people to do things for her. She wanted control back of her own life. For that to happen, she needed to be on her own.

"The Ambassador said it would take a few days, so Wednesday or Thursday. I'm sure it won't be any later than Friday."

That gave him a little time with her. Hotch nodded slowly and he saw Emily looking at him curiously, a puzzled frown on her face.

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

"Yes, of course." She didn't seem convinced so he offered up some news of his own. "I had a meeting with the Director today regarding your status with the Bureau."

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise and an eyebrow went up. "I didn't think I had any status with the Bureau."

Hotch snorted. "After the little press firestorm the past 24 hours, they can't afford not to have you back in some capacity. The Director has decided you should be reinstated at the BAU in the same position you had before you left."

"Because it would go further in giving the appearance that the Bureau was in on Doyle's takedown this entire time," Emily nodded.

"Which is the story they have been passing out to the media," Hotch finished. He looked at her closely. "Have you decided if that's where you might want to be? Where you might want to go back to?"

Slowly, Emily sat back down on the couch. She was quickly tiring. She let out a deep sigh and rubbed her hands on her thighs.

"I've barely just figured out where I'm going to live," she replied. "I still need to go through the paper work to become legally alive." She shook her dark head. "I haven't really given much thought to work."

His heart started to beat at an uncomfortable rate as he listened to her. While she didn't say "no", Emily also didn't sound particularly anxious to return to the BAU.

"They're very anxious to have you back," Hotch continued.

Her smile was wry and her tone was dry. "I'm sure they are." She paused, staring out into space for a moment. "So much has happened, I just don't know if it's the right place for me anymore."

Hotch sat down on the coffee table so he was sitting opposite of Emily, their knees almost touching. "Does any of your hesitation about coming back have to do with the relationships with the rest of the team?"

"I won't lie," she responded quietly. As she gathered her thoughts, Emily gnawed on her lower lip as Hotch patiently waited for her to continue. "There's a lot of distrust there. A lot to overcome that I'm not sure can be."

His shrewd eyes looked intently at her. "You're not just talking about their distrust, are you?"

"Hotch…"

He shook his head. "No, don't try to deny it. It wasn't just about protecting us that made you keep Doyle a secret. There's always just been that little bit that made you hold back from me, all of us." He watched as her eyes dropped from his and saw that quick flash of guilt. "I'm sorry."

Emily's head jerked up and she looked at him incredulously. "What are you apologizing for?"

Hotch sighed. "I know I'm responsible for some of your hesitation, if not all of it. When you first joined, I was suspicious, rude, overly critical, harder on you than I ever was on anyone else. I let the others treat you poorly too when I would never had tolerated such behavior. I know how harsh Reid was on you when he was going through his drug problem, and instead of talking to him about, trying to get him help, I let it slide because that hostility worked to my advantage, my agenda. But what I was really doing was a disservice to you and to Reid."

She stared at him in disbelief hearing Hotch admit that he so badly wanted her off his team he was willing to allow a hostile environment form around her because it suited his goals. Earlier, she had wondered when he had become so manipulative, so political, but now she realized it wasn't Hotch who had changed, but she who had failed to see these things. On some level, she knew, knew he never wanted her in the BAU, knew he wished her gone, but she simply thought he was just watching her like a hawk, waiting for her to make a mistake. But it turned out to be much more than that.

Over the years, her walls had weakened. She had learn to trust this man and the people around them, but she realized she had been careless and in many ways, naïve. She had left herself far too exposed and vulnerable. Emily could feel herself drawing back from him, distancing herself. "Well, your suspicions weren't all that far off," Emily murmured coolly, though she began to pick at her fingernails, a telltale sign of her distress.

Hotch noticed the change in her demeanor and the fingernail picking immediately. This wasn't a conversation he planned to have this evening, or maybe even ever, but their team was broken, _they_ were broken, and it there was a chance for them to rebuild again, it couldn't be done on a foundation where there were still gaps and weaknesses. He could see Emily withdrawing into herself, surprised by his revelations and none too happy with them. He wouldn't be either and it wasn't the first time he was mentally kicking himself for his treatment of her in those early days. But if he wanted her back at the BAU, they had to learn to trust her and she had to learn to trust them again. And for that to happen, he needed to be completely honest with her.

"My suspicions of Strauss were correct, but I was completely wrong about you." Hotch leaned forward and covered her hands with his, to stop her from tearing her cuticles any more and to simply have some type of contact with her. "And I never apologized for my behavior. I am now. I know my apology is too late because it's been so long, but I am sorry. Maybe you don't feel you can trust me, Emily, but do know, you've had my trust and you still do."

Her mouth twisted into a wry smile and Hotch could see a sort of hardness and wariness come into her eyes. He tensed slightly and he knew she could feel the change in his body through his hands which were still on hers.

"And when did that moment occur to you, Hotch?" she asked quietly, but Hotch suddenly felt like he was in the middle of a minefield. "Was it before or after I quit rather than inform on you?"

"Before," he answered so promptly that Emily had no doubt he was telling the truth. He saw a little bit of the hardness fade from her eyes. "I'll tell you exactly when it was too. When I saw you continually go after Reid, confronting him, pushing him to do something to save himself. The rest of us, me, Gideon, Morgan, JJ, just sat on the sidelines, but you never gave up. I guess it was our no profiling rule that held us back, the need to respect one another's privacy. Not only could you have easily reported Reid, which on the heels of what happened with Elle Greenaway would have gotten me removed as Unit Chief, but you fought and pushed Reid and never gave up. That's when I knew you cared about this team as much as anyone, maybe even more. That's when I knew I was an idiot for not trusting you from the beginning."

Emily couldn't help but look at Hotch in surprise. None of the others had done anything except maybe a soft nudge or inquiry here and there from Gideon. Emily knew you couldn't be soft with addicts. You needed to get into their faces and push and shove them into getting help. She had been so frustrated by the others' lack of action. She didn't understand it. Reid was drowning and they had stood on the sidelines, but she couldn't.

"You were the missing piece," Hotch continued softly.

"What?"

"Before you, we were a team. We functioned as a team. Friends yes, but not really close except maybe me and Gideon. But because we are profilers, we still held ourselves back from each other. We could trust the other to watch our backs in the field, but we didn't trust each other with our personal lives, our secrets, what made us frightened in the night. Friends, colleagues. But we weren't a family. Not until you. You made us change our thinking, Emily. And I, at least, repaid you with suspicions. I'm sorry." His hands tightened on hers. "All I want to say is that I know there's still a long road to go, but please know, I still have that faith in you. It's never been shaken, and I hope you still have a little bit of faith in me."

Once again, he threw her off kilter. He had just admitted to her he had wanted her gone so badly, he was willing to stoop to letting colleagues attack her, let Reid's drug problem go unresolved, but then admitted he realized she was so integral to them all. She didn't know what to think any more, or who this man before her was. It was a lot to take in and she wasn't certain how she should respond. What he was asking for, it was too hard to give, because she had given so much to these people already, but his revelations made her wonder if she was right to do so. She slipped her hands from underneath his and crossed her arms, clearly feeling the need to protect herself. "It's a lot to take in. You're right, there are some trust issues there on both sides." She took a deep breath. "It's a lot to take in at once. I'll need some time to process all of this."

Hotch nodded understandingly and regarded her for a moment, but when it didn't appear she would say anything more, he asked her. "So what do you think of the Bureau's offer?"

Emily sighed. "I honestly don't know. It's something I would like to think about for a week or two. Maybe longer. How much time are they willing to give me?"

He felt disappointed that she didn't seem to have a ready response or give an indication that she was leaning towards returning. However, Hotch swallowed his disappointment and shrugged. "They didn't have a set time frame, but I suspect they want an answer fairly soon. I can delay them for a while, but as the story starts to pick up more steam in the media, they're going to press you for an answer."

Emily nodded. Right now, she was more valuable to them politically than as an agent. And they will press her for a favorable reply. "I just really don't know right now if I want to go back." She sighed tiredly, her injuries beginning to bother her a little more as fatigue set in. "I do know I can't make a decision tonight. I think I'll go to bed now, especially if we're going to be spending a couple of hours at the mall tomorrow."

She stood up as did Hotch which brought them very close to each other. He looked at her with an intense expression in his eyes she could not read, but she felt heat beginning to color her cheeks even as she pulled the sweater closer around her body because she felt shivers going down her spine. "Good night, Hotch," she murmured softly as she edged past him, feeling the need to flee, but not wanting to appear as though she was running from him.

His hand suddenly came down on her shoulder, stopping her and she looked up into his face as he smiled softly at her and said, "Good night, Emily."

She flashed him her own small smile and nodded her head once before she made her way towards the stairs and up to her room.

Hotch stood looking after her until she was out of his sight before he put his hands into his pants pockets and walked over to the bookshelf that seemed to bother her so much. He still couldn't figure out what was on the shelf that seemed to be distressing her in some way. He pushed aside that issue for now, as he went over the conversation they just had. As it stood, Emily was moving out soon and potentially not returning to the BAU. It was quite possible that after just returning to his life, she could simply slip out of it again.

This time though, he was not going to let that happen. Not without a fight.

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><p><strong>AN 2: Disagree with me or not, but I do think Hotch was pretty much a jerk to Emily when she first joined and we never got to see him apologize for his behavior. The closest was the gentle joke he made about it in 52 Pick Up where he said that being watched closely never bothered her. But there wasn't a formal apology and I never understood why they did tiptoe so much around Reid's drug addiction. So here's my attempt to do the apology and give an explanation of sorts for that behavior.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Work: insane. That's why so few updates so far this year. I'm hoping things calm down by May, but I was hoping the same would happen in March and it hasn't. We'll see what happens, but meanwhile, thank you for hanging in there with me. I hope you enjoy.**

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><p><em>She could hear the screams, the pleas for help and all she could do was listen to them as they continued to be tortured. What good was her training? What did it matter that she was an expert in hand-to-hand combat, that she could defuse a bomb or that she was among the best profilers in the world. Her skills were meaningless if all she could do was listen.<em>

_Emily shivered, the dampness of the cell settling into her bones. Her fingers were raw and bleeding from her efforts to find a way out. How long had she'd been here? Hours? Days? It was all running together and she had lost track of time. _

_And through it all, her constant companions were the screams._

_Male. Female. Cries and pleas for help, for mercy, for death._

_And she sat there powerless, wondering when it would be her turn to be physically tortured. This madman was already mentally and emotionally torturing her._

_A new sound reached her ears. The rasp of a key in the lock on her cell door. Slowly it swung open and she saw-_

Emily woke with a jerk and a harsh gasp. The gasp turned into a whimper of pain as she jolted her tender ribs. She clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle any noise. She breathed heavily through her nose for a few seconds, trying to ride out the pain without making a sound. Even though her bedroom door was closed, she knew Hotch kept his open in case Jack needed him in the middle of the night. She also knew her former supervisor was a light sleeper and despite his injury in an explosion several years earlier, still had extremely good hearing.

She paused, listening to the quiet noises of the house and was certain she had not disturbed anyone. Slowly, she lowered her hand and took a couple of deep, shaky breaths, the nightmare still lingering in her mind.

_It was just a dream,_ she told herself. _It's over. He's dead and gone. Long buried and rotting in his grave. He's no longer able to hurt anyone else_.

Emily didn't know why she started dreaming about that time again. Probably because of that damn book on Hotch's shelf and her own uncertain state right now. Those memories did have a habit of sneaking up on her when she was feeling vulnerable and though she would never admit it, right now, that was exactly what she was feeling: uncertainty, doubts, loneliness, isolation. When she felt that way while in hiding, she could at least focus on taking down Doyle. Now, she didn't have a target to concentrate on, something to distract her. Just reclaiming her life or what was left of it.

She glanced at the small digital clock on the bedside table. Three am, when everybody was at their weakest. Slowly, quietly, she got out of bed and padded over to the door. Gently, she eased it open, the small click of the tumblers turning sounding very loud in the quiet of the slumbering house. She paused again and thought she heard Hotch shifting in his bed, but there was no other sound after it. He could have simply been turning over.

On bare and silent feet, she slipped out of the bedroom and padded down the stairs to the kitchen. She had virtually no appetite the last few days and had only poked at her dinner. She felt a dull gnawing in her stomach, signaling that her body was taking matters into its own hands and telling her to eat something.

She opened the refrigerator door, the light inside the appliance highlighting her features in the darkened kitchen and making her look pale and ghostly. Idly, she looked at the contents and saw nothing particularly appealing to her. Her body was telling her to eat, but she just couldn't seem to make herself do it. She sighed and closed the refrigerator door, turning around to exit the kitchen.

"I can always make you something."

She jumped when she saw the shadowy figure standing in the doorway of the kitchen and heard his voice at the same time. Hotch reached over to flip the lights on and he could see Emily's white, frightened face staring back at him. Normally, he would have teased her, but he could see the lingering fear in her eyes and cursed himself. Of course she would be scared of him, sneaking up on her like that. She had spent two years on constant alert and here he was surprising her in a darkened room in a house she was supposed to feel safe in. _Brilliant move, Hotchner_, he said to himself as he moved forward to apologize.

"Emily, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he said, letting her see the regret in his eyes.

She swallowed hard, trying to control her shallow breathing and the rapid beating of her heart. Mentally, Emily was kicking herself for allowing Hotch to even be able to get that close to her without her being aware of his presence. When had she gotten so careless?

And that was the crux of the problem. Aaron Hotchner had an unnerving ability to get her to lower her guard and that was something she could not afford to do. She did it when she was with the BAU and look where that had gotten her: a stake in the stomach by Ian Doyle. The Emily Prentiss of the CIA would have taken him out long before that had happened. Long before he could have killed Tsia or even gotten close enough to her team to know their habits.

Her time with Hotch and the others had made her too comfortable, too soft, and made her forget who she was, who she had to be in order to survive, in order to protect others.

A part of him was fascinated by the quick play of emotions and expressions that were in her eyes. While she could be as elusive and secretive as anyone, Emily Prentiss was also in some ways damned by her large, expressive eyes; if you knew how to read them. Over the years they had known each other, while not a total expert, Hotch had learned and he could catch glimpses of what she was thinking. First there was fear, then anger, but not directed at him, but at herself. He could almost see her berating herself for her carelessness. Then, more frighteningly, he began to see her slowly and meticulous shut down and he was no longer seeing Emily, the woman he knew, but Prentiss, the CIA machine, the woman he knew she had to be to have survived her career with the other agency and her time undercover getting close to Doyle.

Her eyes turned hard, cool and professional and her face morphed from its startled expression to a blank slate. She was shutting down on him, withdrawing further, and Hotch did not want that to happen. He would not let it happen.

"Its okay, Hotch," she said in that flat, emotionless tone. Hearing it, one would have not known she had been badly startled just seconds ago. "It's your house."

"I want you to feel it's your home too, Emily." He saw that surprised her somewhat, but she quickly masked that emotion. He took a step towards her and could see she stopped herself from moving a corresponding step back to keep that distance between them. A step back would have meant conceding ground, and he knew she didn't want to do that now. But it also meant he was very close to her. He could feel her warm breath on the skin exposed by the crew neckline of his t-shirt and the goose pimples that sprouted up on his arms because of it. "You're safe here, Emily," he murmured, reaching out to gently touch her shoulder. "You're always safe with me."

She could feel the warmth of his hand through the thin material of the t-shirt she wore. Unconsciously, she felt her body sway towards him, drawn to the comfort and safety he offered. Emily caught herself. She had said she would not do that, not rely on him and here she was, ready to go back on what she knew had to be done, how she needed to act. She felt a wave of disgust for herself for that momentary bit of weakness. She wasn't like that before.

"I'm fine," she murmured.

"Emily," he said in a soft voice, a voice she was quickly beginning to recognize that he only seemed to use when saying her name. "You can trust me. Please, just let me in."

Warning bells sounded in her head. She had wanted to avoid this, avoid the questions, avoid relying on someone again. Avoid _him_. Emily shrugged off his hand and simply said, "It's late. I think I'll go back to bed. Good night, Hotch."

She slid quickly past him and was out of the kitchen even before he realized what was happening. Aaron closed his eyes and sighed heavily, Rossi's words from earlier echoing in his head.

"_Fine, but do not, I repeat, do not push her Hotch. If you do, you might find yourself doing more harm than good and maybe not being able to reach her at all. We have our issues to work through with this Doyle mess, but remember, Emily's got her issues with us too, and that includes you."_


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Sorry for the delay in these stories, but I've had such a busy time at work that it's left very little time for anything else. We've hopefully hit a slow patch, or as slow as it will get, so maybe I'll have some more free time and be able to update things more regularly. I hope folks are still enjoying this story. I know you probably think it's moving a little slowly, and there will be some build up before the real action starts. I need to lay the groundwork and foundation first. Thanks for your patience and feedback.**

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><p>"Jack, why don't we get both?" Hotch sighed, fidgeting slightly as his son tried to pick between two pairs of sneakers. It was an uneconomical decision. The boy would only wind up wearing one pair and then out grow the other before he was ready to wear them. But they had already spent far too much time shopping and Hotch was anxious to get back to Emily.<p>

"Really?" the boy's eyes lit up. He gets two pairs of sneakers? Cool!

Hotch grinned good-naturedly. "Sure, why not?" One can be his play shoes and the other his school shoes, he decided. He glanced at his watch. "Let's pay for these so we can go find Emily."

Hotch had never realized how effective of a distraction Jack could be until he saw Emily make sure the little boy was between them from the moment they woke up until they separated at the mall. Hotch knew what she was doing. She had no desire to continue their conversations from the night before, though he very much did. However, it wasn't something they could talk about with Jack between them and the little boy had been more than willing to stay glued to "Emmy's" side.

They separated at the center of the mall with Hotch going to GapKids and Emily saying she would be at Nordstrom's. Hotch figured they would be faster and promised to meet Emily on the second floor of the large department store.

"Take your time," Hotch had said to her as he and Jack started to walk away.

He had figured the shoes, jacket and jeans he wanted to get for Jack would take them about 30 to 45 minutes tops. Jack wasn't particularly fussy about his clothes, but the sneakers had sidetracked them. With or without lights? Blue or green? Velcro or laces? By the time they had made it through the long line, GapKids was having some sale that brought out every mother in Arlington, it was well over an hour since he had separated from Emily. Considering she needed to buy practically everything, he figured she was still shopping, but knowing his luck, Emily would be one of those women who could do her shopping in fifteen minutes.

With their shopping bags in one hand and Jack's hand in the other, Hotch hurried to the second floor of Nordstrom's where the women's department was located. His eyes scanned the area, looking for the familiar dark tresses that he had missed seeing these last few years. He frowned, not seeing her and approached one of the saleswomen.

"Excuse me? I'm looking for someone."

"Oh yes?" the woman replied brightly as she took in the Rolex watch he wore, the expensive leather shoes, shopping bags in one hand and his son's hand in the other. "Are you looking for your wife, sir?"

"We're looking for our Emmy!" Jack piped up.

"Oh, do you mean Emily?" the woman asked. She glanced up at Hotch. "Slender brunette with dark eyes?"

Hotch nodded and the woman informed him Emily was in the dressing room. She pointed to a small lounge area outside of the dressing rooms furnished with comfortable chairs and a table with magazines scattered on it and told Hotch they could wait there. "I'll let your wife know that you're here," she continued, still mistakenly believing she was dealing with a family.

"Oh, she's not-," Hotch began but the woman had hurried off. He shrugged, not thinking it was a big deal.

The lounge also had some coloring books and crayons that occupied Jack as Hotch flipped through an issue of "Time". After about ten minutes, a flushed looking Emily came out carrying two pairs of jeans and black slacks.

"Sorry for the wait," she said.

"Is that all you're getting?" Hotch asked noting she had no shopping bags in her hand though she did have a brand new purse hanging off her shoulder.

"The rest of my items are up by the register," she replied. She glanced at Jack and then back at Hotch. "You know, I still have a lot of shopping to do. I'm thinking it'll be at least another hour, but maybe more. I need shoes, some toiletries, underclothes. Maybe it's best if you guys go and do something else. I can catch a cab back to your place."

Hotch's eyes narrowed fractionally at her though Emily kept her face placid. The woman was bound and determined to keep her walls up and shut him out. Well, he was equally determined to make sure she let him in.

"It's not a problem, right Jack?" The little boy looked up from his coloring book. "We don't mind going with Emily while she gets the rest of her stuff, right?"

"I can help you pick stuff out!" the little boy cried out excitedly. "Daddy says I'm really good at it!"

She couldn't help but smile at the little boy though she was feeling less pleased with his father who looked at her with a slightly smug expression on his face. "That would be great, Jack." She turned and as she moved past Hotch she said under her breath, "No way in Hell are the two of you going underwear shopping with me."

Hotch learned that Emily and his son shared indecisiveness over shoes. The woman couldn't seem to decide between two pairs of black ankle boots. She already had in her purchase pile sneakers which she intended to wear for the rest of their day instead of the flimsy flip flops she had worn out of the hospital. She also had a pair of tall high heeled black boots that Hotch had rather enjoyed watching her model as she walked back and forth in front of a mirror and a pair of red flats. Now she was trying to decide between two more pairs of boots and Hotch was getting hungry.

"Just get them both," he finally suggested. At least unlike Jack, Emily wasn't going to outgrow her boots before she had a chance to wear them.

"I can't do that," she said doubtfully.

Hotch resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He knew that was just the prelude to a purchase so he decided to give her the extra push.

"They both look nice on you and you said they're both really comfortable. And they're both on sale so just get them both."

"Well…" Emily hesitated.

"Emmy, I'm hungry! When can we eat?" Jack whined. He had been patient until then, but Emily could see if he didn't get food soon, the child was going to have a meltdown.

"Okay, I'll get them both," she sighed. Shoes were always a weakness with her.

Hotch grunted in satisfaction while the saleswoman happily scooped up half of Emily's choices to take to the register. She would be making two trips and her commission for this customer was looking pretty nice.

"Emmy! These are pretty! Try them on!" Jack said excitedly as he ran up to Emily and Hotch, his hunger momentarily forgotten in light of a distraction.

Jack held in his hands a pair of four inch, red stiletto heels. They were opened toed with only a band of crystals going across the front of the foot and a red bow at the back. The boy had been drawn to the shiny crystals.

"Oh Jack, those are very pretty, but I don't have anything to wear with them. I don't even have a dress," Emily said.

"Just go buy a dress. But after we eat," he said, remembering his priorities, but pleased with his solution to Emily's problem.

"Jack, those are special occasion shoes and I don't have anything to wear them to," Emily continued.

"Like what?" The little boy's head was cocked to the side reminding Emily of an inquisitive cocker spaniel.

"Like a party or a date."

"Daddy can take you out on a date."

Emily blushed as Hotch said, "Jack!" in an exasperated, but amused tone. While his son was getting them into a sticky topic of conversation, it entertained Hotch to no end to see badass Emily Prentiss, formerly of the CIA, Interpol, and the FBI, get flummoxed by an eight year old.

"What?" the little boy asked. "Why can't you take Emily out on a date, Daddy?"

Hotch looked at Emily and she felt her heart thump uncomfortably when she saw a light she did not recognize in his dark orbs. "Yes, Emily, why couldn't I take you out on a date?" he said in a low, intimate tone.

She had to repress the shudder that ran through her. "It's because we're friends, Jack."

"Friends don't date?"

"Not usually."

"But they do sometimes," Hotch interjected smoothly. He grinned at the annoyed glare she sent his way. "That's what I hear."

"Then you and Daddy can go out on a date and you can get the shoes," Jack replied calmly, satisfied with his logic. He handed Emily the display model of the shoe. She took it and took one look at the price tag.

"Another reason not to get the shoes, Master Jack," she said waggling at him, "These are nearly $600."

"You're joking!" Hotch gasped. Emily showed him the price tag.

"Oh! You found the Choos!" Emily's saleswoman, Britta, exclaimed as she came to collect the last two pairs of shoes Emily had decided upon. "Did you want to try those on?"

"Yes."

"No."

Emily glared at Hotch again but he simply smiled at Britta and asked her to get Emily's size. "For our date, sweetheart."

She snorted in exasperation, but with one positive vote, two if you counted the boy, Britta scurried off to get the shoes. This was already turning out to be a very lucrative sale and if there was a chance to also sell a $600 pair of Jimmy Choos, she was going to go for it.

Once Emily had the shoes on her feet, she could feel her resolve melting. They were beautiful.

Hotch watched as Emily held the legs of her yoga pants higher so she could see how her feet looked in the red heels. They looked incredible on her, showcasing her narrow feet and her long slender legs to perfection. Hotch could feel a stirring in his gut that he recognized as desire. For a split second he wondered what she would look like dressed only in the shoes.

"Beautiful," Hotch murmured.

"They are," Emily sighed with longing in her voice. She could easily afford them, but her practical side was telling her she had no use for them. She shook her head. "I can't. Where would I wear them?"

"On your date with Daddy," Jack piped up.

"Honey, these aren't the type of shoes to wear on a date with your friend," Emily began.

"What? I don't rate over-priced, sexy heels?" Hotch asked in mock horror.

"That's not what I mean, and you know it! These are date-date shoes," Emily stressed. "You don't wear these type of shoes if you're going to have tea with someone and discuss the finer points of Darjeeling versus Earl Grey or something silly like chai." If she wore these shoes there were certain expectations about how the date would end, expectations she was not going to explain to Jack Hotchner.

"I prefer coffee. Who says we would be talking about tea? What do you think I am? Eighty?" Hotch asked in a low growl as he stepped closer to Emily. He noted with satisfaction that Emily's eyes had widened and he could see the pulse in her neck fluttering rapidly. He smiled a feral, predatory grin, ignoring the voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Rossi chastising him, "Don't push, Aaron!"

She couldn't reconcile this Hotch with the Hotch she knew before Doyle. She didn't understand what he was doing, why he was so interested in her and now he was…flirting? She licked her suddenly dry lips and saw his eyes go towards her mouth, following the path her tongue took and she felt something she hadn't felt in a long time, the sweet jolt of desire running through her.

Emily shook her head slightly and took a step back. What was she doing? She was so screwed up right now, her life was in chaos and here she is drawn to Hotch. This needed to stop.

"Emmy? Why are you all flushed?" Jack asked innocently. "Are you getting the shoes? And I'm hungry."

Still feeling flustered, Emily just grabbed the shoes and handed them to the saleswoman. "Fine, I'll get the shoes. Let me pay for all of these and go get some lunch." She smiled down at Jack. "Sound good to you?" She held out her hand to Jack who grasped it and skipped along next to her to the cash register with Hotch walking behind them, watching them with a smile on his face.

"You have a beautiful family," Britta said to Hotch as she hurried past him towards the cash register.

"Maybe not now, but I hope we will be a family soon," he murmured wistfully to himself.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you for your patience on this story and the other ones I have out there. Work has been busy which makes finding time to write difficult. Thanks for sticking with this. Please let me know what you think! Thanks!**

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><p>Emily Prentiss rated a meal at Bella's an expensive, but excellent French restaurant in Georgetown or The Range, an intimate establishment that had tables stowed away in private nooks. Instead, Hotch was taking her to a TGI Friday's on a Saturday afternoon for lunch at a busy mall. Intimacy, privacy, and least of all seduction were the last things on the menu, especially since they had Jack with them. However, Hotch was just glad to be able to sit across from the beautiful brunette and enjoy her company.<p>

It also gave him a chance to make sure she ate something. Emily was far too thin and in the past twenty-four hours he had seen her eat very little. When the waitress came to take their orders and she had opted for a small salad, Hotch frowned at her.

"And chicken fingers and a side of mac n' cheese for the lady," he added. He ignored the way Emily's eyes flashed at him.

Emily waited until the waitress left before she said in a mild tone that she only used because Jack was with them, "I hope you're hungry, Hotch, because I don't want those chicken fingers or the macaroni."

"We can split them and share them with Jack." His son had opted for a kid's hamburger and fries. "You're not eating enough."

"I'm fine," she said through gritted teeth.

"You've lost at least fifteen pounds since I last saw you and you can't afford to lose that much, Emily. And don't give me that story that it all turned into lean muscle either."

She blinked at him. "How did you know that was exactly how much I lost?"

Hotch glanced at Jack who was too preoccupied with coloring his placemat and then leaned forward to say in a low tone, "When it comes to your body, I've noticed many things, Emily."

He smirked at her flustered and flushed appearance. He could imagine Rossi glaring at him disapprovingly, but in Hotch's eyes, this didn't equate to pushing Emily. He was simply letting her know that she is a highly desirable woman to him.

Emily's eyes sidled over to Jack, but the little boy was unaware of what was transpiring between the adults. She was confused by this Hotch, so different from the man she had left before she went into hiding. He was going beyond flirting and bordering on seduction and God help her, she was finding him hard to resist.

But she had to. Her own situation was too uncertain and the last thing she needed to do was drag some innocents into her mess.

"So what did you and your dad buy, Jack?" she asked the little boy, once again putting the child between them. Hotch raised his eyebrow at this clumsy distraction, but she ignored him.

"Clothes," the little boy grumbled. He perked up after a second. "And some really cool sneakers with lights!"

"Wow, those sound really great," Emily said in an admiring tone.

"Did you finish all of your shopping?" Hotch asked her after several minutes of listening to her conversation with his son.

"I have a few more things I need to get. Hotch, I think it's best if you take Jack home after lunch. The last of my errands are, uhm, personal."

"We can wait for you," he replied easily. He didn't want Emily to over-tax herself, but he also wasn't comfortable having her wander around alone. A part of him was afraid she disappear like she had once before and he wouldn't get another chance with her.

"Hotch, I really prefer to make these purchases on my own," she said in a firm tone. She paused as the waitress came back with their orders. After the woman left, Emily continued. "Look, I can take a cab back to your place."

"Jack and I don't have plans, so we can wait for you." His voice held a note of steel that made Emily frown at him in irritation.

"I don't see what the big deal is if I do a little shopping on my own," she grumbled as she picked up her fork. She stabbed irritably at a piece of spinach in her salad.

"Daddy doesn't let me go anywhere alone either, Emmy," Jack piped up, a bit of ketchup smeared on his face. "He says it's to keep me safe. He just wants to make sure you're safe too."

"That's right, Jack, I just want to make sure the people I care about are always safe," Hotch replied as he gave Emily a meaningful look.

She sighed in exasperation. "I'm not going to win this argument, am I?"

"Jack and I can go visit some other stores and meet you back at the Starbucks in an hour. Emily, you just got out of the hospital and I for one always thought shopping at a mall was exhausting. Maybe you aren't feeling it right now, but another hour or two of this and dealing with these crowds, the last thing you'll probably want to do is lug your bags over to the cab stand and wait for one to actually appear."

She would never admit it, but Emily was already feeling the effects of her shopping trip. She was glad Jack had clamored for lunch because it gave her an opportunity to sit down and rest. She wasn't looking forward to doing anymore shopping but she needed a few more things. She hated to admit, but Hotch's offer was sounding good to her. However, Emily's contrary nature caused her to make one more feeble protest.

"I don't want to be a bother…"

Hotch reached out to touch her hand which was lying on top of the table. "Hey," he said softly. "You will never be a bother to me." His eyes were soft and so full of emotion, Emily had to look away or be overwhelmed by what she saw in them. She was _not_ ready for this and reluctantly, she drew her hand out from under his, immediately missing the warm comfort he had provided.

"Thank you, Hotch," she said softly. "I am getting a little tired."

"You might feel a little better if you have some protein," he suggested as he pushed the plate of chicken fingers closer to her.

"You're not going to let up on the food, are you?" she sighed. She picked up one chicken finger and bit into it. Slowly, she chewed and swallowed. She took another bite. Then another and her stomach not rebelling at the food.

Jack asked Emily a question and soon conversation shifted towards more mundane items and the talk became easy and relaxed. Emily could feel some of the tension she had been carrying in her body melt away and before she knew it, she had eaten a good portion of the chicken fingers and macaroni and cheese. She felt pleasantly full, but was also feeling somewhat tired as well. She excused herself to use the ladies room.

The restaurant was still crowded and Emily had to weave her way around servers and other patrons to get to the restrooms which were located at the end of a small, dark hallway. When she came back out a few minutes later, a picture on one wall in the hallway caught her eye. It was a dingy, dark print of stone, neo-classical door covered in ivy, the vines twisted and curved, melding with the stone. It looked as if the door hadn't been opened in years and would be impossible to open ever again. It was also horrifyingly familiar to Emily and she felt her heart racing, adrenaline pumping through her veins. Her palms began to sweet and her mouth felt dry. It looked so much like _that_ door, innocent-looking on the outside, but unspeakable horrors behind it.

So intently was she concentrating on the door, she didn't notice the man coming out of the men's restroom. The hallway was dark and narrow and the man accidentally bumped into Emily. She let out a startled cry and spun around. In the dimly lit passage, the man's face was in shadows and he was nothing more than a dark silhouette. Emily gasped and she didn't hear the man's apology before she spun about and bolted.

Emily pushed aside a waiter, knocking over his tray of glasses, causing them to crash to the floor and drawing everyone's attention, including Hotch and Jack's. Aaron started to rise to his feet, alarmed at the panicked look on Emily's face.

"Emily?"

She didn't hear him, barreling past other customers and ignoring Hotch completely. Hastily he threw down some bills on the table and picked up Jack and their coats. He rushed out of the restaurant in time to see Emily being swallowed up by the Saturday crowds in the mall.

"Emily!"

But she was gone.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Poor Emily! Going through so much and Hotch not having a clue as to what it's all about. Thank you for the kind comments! I hope you enjoy!**

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><p>"Daddy?"<p>

Jack's anxious query went ignored for a second as Hotch hastily threw enough money onto the table to cover their lunch bill and leave an overly generous tip. He scooped up his and Jack's coats and Emily's forgotten purse. With his other arm, he scooped up his son and settled him on his hip as he hastened out of the restaurant, anxiously searching for his frightened, brunette companion.

Hotch swore internally when he didn't see her, the Saturday crowds quickly swallowing her up in the few precious seconds it took him to get out of the restaurant. Hotch put Jack down and then knelt to his son's level to help him with his jacket.

"Jack, I don't think Emily is feeling well, so we have to find her. I'm going to put you on my shoulders and you have to help me look for her, okay?"

The little boy nodded solemnly, not sure what was happening but being aware enough that his Emmy was in some sort of distress and it was up to the Hotchner men to find and help her. Hotch picked him up and settled him onto his shoulders. Jack swiveled his head around, looking for Emily's familiar dark head.

At his height, Hotch towered over most of the crowds, but knew Jack had a much better chance of spotting Emily from his position. However, Jack didn't see Prentiss immediately so Hotch randomly decided on a direction and plunged towards his left.

As they hurried through the crowds, Hotch's mind was in a whirl. What had happened to send Emily bolting like she did? Fear gripped his heart as he wondered if she spotted someone that frightened her. Was she still in danger? Was Doyle's organization still a threat to her? His mouth thinned into a grim line. This time, he would not let anyone near her. She would face no danger alone ever again. He would destroy any threat to her before he would allow it touch her.

After fifteen minutes, Hotch knew it was futile to keep searching alone. He didn't want to bring in mall security for a variety of reasons. If Emily was in danger the last thing he wanted was some inexperienced mall cop stumbling into a potentially deadly situation. If it was nothing, there was Emily's embarrassment to consider. More importantly, if she was going through something else there was the risk of Emily's potential panic attack getting back to the Bureau and that would delay if not derail her reinstatement onto the team.

There was only one thing to do.

"Dave? Hotch. It's Emily."

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><p>Fifteen minutes later, the rest of the BAU team, including Will and Kevin, met up with Hotch and Jack at the center of the mall next to a giant pumpkin that was there in preparation for Halloween. During the wait, Hotch had Emily paged several times over the mall PA system, but the brunette had yet to show up. JJ and Will were the last to arrive.<p>

"Who's watching Henry?" Garcia asked.

"Our neighbor is," Will replied in his soft drawl. His blue eyes clouded over with concern. "Any sign of Emily?"

Hotch shook his head.

"What happened?" Morgan asked in a terse tone. He had been against Emily staying with Hotch but he never thought the man would actually _lose_ her. If he did something to make her run away, Derek might just forget the other man was his supervisor.

"I don't know what happened," Hotch replied sharply. Morgan's anger had not gone unobserved and Hotch knew the younger man was likely blaming him for Emily running away. However, arguing would be counter-productive. They needed to find Emily. So Hotch reigned in his own temper and succinctly related the events.

"Do you think she ran into someone who could be a danger to her?" Reid asked with troubled eyes. They had been assured by Interpol and the CIA that Doyle's network was gone, that any threat to Emily and the rest of them had been taken care of, but those agencies had lied to them before.

"I don't know," Hotch repeated, frustration and worry evident in his voice and face. "I just want to find her."

"Daddy, we will find Emmy, right?"

They had forgotten Jack was with them and Hotch felt a pang of guilt when he saw his son's troubled face. The boy had just gotten Emily back, **THEY** had just gotten her back. Having her gone again didn't bear consideration.

"Have you contacted mall security?" JJ asked. "Get them in on the search."

Hotch shook his head and Rossi replied, "If we do that, it'll get back to the Bureau, especially with Emily's face plastered all over the news. They won't reinstate her or at least delay her reinstatement for a while."

"Maybe that's for the best," Morgan said quietly. The eyes that regarded him ranged from angry to questioning. "If she didn't see some type of threat, it means something spooked her enough to run. To forget she was here with Hotch and Jack. Hell, to forget her purse which has her money and phone. Maybe she's not ready to be back in the field."

"She has a couple of weeks to get better," Garcia said in a stout voice. "She just got out of the hospital. So she's having a bit of a rough time. Anyone would. It doesn't mean she won't be absolutely fine by the time she's scheduled to be back at the BAU. And this is Emily. If anyone is going to fine, it's her."

"We're wasting time," Rossi cut in. "Let's each take a floor and meet back here in an hour. If we can't find her in that amount of time we have to conclude she's not in the mall and we'll have to expand our search."

"I've got some friends on patrol in the area that I can trust to be discreet," Will chimed in. "I'll make some calls and ask them to keep a look out for Em."

Hotch nodded his thanks as Rossi divided up the teams. There were only three floors, but there was a lot of ground to cover. He sent Reid, JJ and Will to the third floor. Morgan, Garcia and Kevin took the second, while the Hotchners would work with him on the ground level floor they were currently on. The groups separated. An hour later, they met back at the rendezvous point with absolutely nothing to show for their efforts.

Though he didn't complain, it was obvious Jack was tiring. Seeing this, JJ offered to take him home with her. The little boy protested. "I'm fine, Daddy! I want to help find, Emmy!"

Hotch bent down until he was eye level with his son. "Jack. I need you to go with JJ and go back to our house because Emily might go there and it would be terrible if she came home to an empty house. Okay, buddy? Can you be there in case she shows up?"

Jack was torn. What his Daddy said made sense. If Emily couldn't find her way back, she would go to their house and find it empty. Who would let her inside? It was so cold out there and Jack didn't want to think of Emily shivering out in the cold as she waited for them to come home. He finally nodded, albeit still reluctantly.

Hotch exchanged glances with JJ who nodded. "I'll pick up Henry and we'll go to your place," she said in a low voice. Hotch handed her his house keys and with Jack's hand in her other one, she wished her friends luck and hurried from the mall.

For the next few hours they drove in ever increasing circles with the mall as their center point. They found nothing and neither had the patrol officers Will had called on. While Hotch and Morgan were ready to search all night, Rossi noted they didn't know where else to look. The group met back at Hotch's house where Jack ran to meet them. When he saw Emily wasn't with them, his shoulders slumped and he looked devastated.

"You didn't find Emmy?"

Hotch knelt down and drew his son into his arms. "Not yet, buddy, but we will."

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><p>She ran for the nearest exit, blind to her surroundings, only looking for escape. The noise and voices in the mall morphed into the screams and cries that haunted her nightmare. Emily's only thought was to run, run like she did last time. Run away from the screams, letting the poor bastards to suffer their fate.<p>

Exhaustion and pain forced her to stop. Her ribs and other injuries throbbed painfully and she was gasping for air. She leaned against a tree, trying to catch her breath and she felt herself return to the present time as the nightmarish memories faded. She realized she was no longer trapped in that place with the screams. Cold air dried her sweat, chilling her and she realized it was no longer light. She didn't know how long or how far she had been running, but the mall was no longer in sight. She was in a park or small wooded section.

Emily shivered, the cold cutting through the thin sweater and long sleeved t-shirt she wore. She crossed her arms and mentally kicked herself. What the Hell was she doing running out of the mall in a blind panic? Abandoning Hotch and Jack without any word. Without a glance or second thought. She wasn't there any more, hadn't been trapped underground like that in years, but that photo just brought back so many memories. She knew she was already in a fragile place. Spending two years looking over her shoulder, sleeping with one eye open, her finale battle with Doyle, her rocky reunion with her teammates, it all conspired to break down every defense she had ever built up within her. Then seeing that damn book on Hotch's shelf. All these years she had managed to avoid even looking at a copy of _The Divine Comedy_. It wasn't hard. The book was typically reserved for high school or college students.

But seeing that book again when she was emotionally, mentally and physically exhausted just shattered what few weak walls she had left to protect herself. She was tapped out, exhausted and she couldn't hold back the memories, the emotions, the pain anymore.

She cursed softly when she felt the first tear fall. This was not the time to cry! She needed to pull herself together! She would never be able to function this way!

"Come on, Prentiss!" she said softly to herself as she took in a deep breath of cold air that burned her lungs. She shivered again, feeling even colder. But she welcomed it. It grounded her, kept her here and away from that Hell hole in her memory.

She didn't know how long she had been out in the night. She simply walked until she came to a road. The road led to a street where there were houses. She finally found a bus stop and examining the information posted there, figured out how to get back to Hotch's.

Two hours and three bus transfers later, she wound up ten blocks from his house. Another bone-chilling twenty minutes later, she was his front porch. She could tell from the cars parked outside that he had called out the troops to find her and she felt a pang of guilt that they had been forced to do so. She rang the doorbell and waited.

Seconds later, the door was flung open and Hotch stood there, staring at her.

"Thank God you came back," he breathed out before he pulled her into his warm arms.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Yeah, I know it's been a while, but if you've seen some of my other updates, life is just far too busy these days. I also had a heck of a time with this part because Hotch and Emily were not cooperating. They wanted to go so forward so fast and they're not supposed to! We compromised. They're much further along in their relationship than I had planned for this point in time, but they're not quite where the characters were pushing to be as I was writing this. Hope you enjoy and if you have a moment, leave a comment. Thanks for your patience!**

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><p>Instinctively, her body huddled next to his warm one and she could feel Hotch tighten his grip around her. She was pulled into the house and the door shut firmly behind them, but he still kept his grip around her. Emily turned her head towards him, burying her nose in his neck and nestling her head under his chin. She didn't think about what she did, she simply acted and it felt…right. Maybe the cold had slowed her thinking but for once she let her guard down and leaned on someone else.<p>

Rossi had warned him not to push too hard, to keep his distance, but as the minutes passed and he didn't know where Emily was, Hotch grew more panicked and afraid he would never see her again. So when he saw her standing on his porch, all warnings and good advice flew out the window and he just had to have her in his arms if only to assure himself she was back with him, safe and sound.

"Emily!"

Garcia's voice broke the fragile spell around them and Emily reluctantly began to pull away from the warmth and protection in Hotch's arms, but he held her fast to him, earning a surprised and curious look from the lady and everyone else.

He could feel her pulling away and he refused to let that happen. Maybe she didn't fully trust him with what was troubling her, not right now, but he be damned if he let her put up anymore walls between them. He held her fast, keeping hold of their connection and trying to warm what felt like an alarmingly cold body.

Hotch could see Rossi's gaze flick to where the younger man had his arm possessively wrapped around Emily's waist and then travel back up to look into his defiant, dark eyes. Dave frowned at Aaron, not liking the fact that his friend was going back on his word about pushing too soon for a relationship. Oh, Rossi could see the signs. He knew the signs, he saw the fear in Hotch's eyes as the hours melted away and they had no idea where Prentiss was. The older man suspected that when they found the woman, Hotch wouldn't waste any more time or listen to any more doubts. He was too frightened he could lose her again. Only Aaron didn't realize by pushing her so soon, that might be exactly what happened.

The others were feeling a mixture of relief, confusion and anger, a combustible mix at this time. They were happy to see their missing friend, but they couldn't help but be thrown back two years when she had once again disappeared on them without a word, leaving them sick with worry. It had occurred to each of them that there was a possibility they would find her, hurt or this time even dead. With those uncomfortable memories were the feelings they had yet to resolve. With their nerves already badly rattled by her earlier disappearance, some of them couldn't keep the anger and accusatory tone out of their voices.

"Why did you run off? What happened? Do you realize how worried we were? We spent hours looking for you! How could you do this to us again?"

Hotch heard her quick intake of breath and felt the ever so slight movement of Emily shrinking back from the barrage of questions. He felt her tremble and wondered if it was all due to the cold.

"Enough!" he barked out in his Unit Chief voice that told him he would not tolerate anymore. "Emily is back, and that's all that matters."

"Emmy!"

Will had come in from the kitchen with Henry and Jack. The Hotchner boy spotted his missing friend immediately and bounded over, forestalling anymore uncomfortable arguments. Jack went up to Emily and hugged her tight.

"Good to see you again, Emily," Will drawled out. "I'd say you're looking good, but you actually look mighty cold. I heated up some of that chili you had in the fridge, Hotch and gave it to the boys. There's plenty left and I think Emily looks like she could use some and maybe a hot shower."

Due to his quiet nature and the slow drawl of his voice, many underestimated Will LaMontagne. He was a sharp, observant man with a kind heart and a gentlemanly nature. He also had sharp hearing and had heard what went on in the living room. While he too was curious as to why Emily had run off, he also knew interrogating her now, especially when she looked like she was half frozen, would be counterproductive. Besides, Will never did like seeing a lady distressed like that. His momma had raised him better.

"Will's right," Hotch said, sending the man a grateful look. He could feel Emily trembling violently against him and his first priority was to warm her up. "Why don't you go upstairs and take a hot shower and get some warm clothes on. I put all your bags in your room. I can bring a tray up to you."

"The shower sounds good," Emily murmured, suddenly tired as well as cold. "I'm not very hungry, thank you." She turned to her friends who watched her with varying looks of exasperation and concern. "I'm sorry to have messed up your Saturday. I…I just needed some time alone. Thank you for being so concerned. Please excuse me."

She turned on her heel and hurried up the stairs, ignoring the questioning and dismayed looks on everyone's faces. She had sounded so formal, so cool and impersonal, not like their Emily at all and each of them wondered how much of that woman was left.

"Jack," Hotch began to get the boy out of the room, "Could you and Henry help Will put a tray together for Emily? Maybe make some hot tea for her?" He looked inquiringly up at Will who nodded his head. He would keep the kids out of the room away from the explosion that was about to happen.

"Kevin?" the Southerner turned to the young man who had remained quiet the entire time. "Why don't you give me and the boys a hand in the kitchen?" Kevin nodded, eager to be out of the tense room.

"Come on, boys," Will steered the two children back into the kitchen. "Let's get a lot of good things onto a tray for Emily."

The adults remained silent until the children were out of earshot. As Hotch anticipated, Morgan was the first to speak.

"What the Hell is going on, Hotch?" spat out the dark skinned man. "Prentiss just takes off, hightails it like she did two years ago. We search high and low for her and when she decides to stroll back home, you just pat her on the head and send her off to bed? No explanation from her?"

"I'll ask what happened when she's ready to talk," Hotch replied in an even tone.

"Obviously something spooked Emily or she wouldn't have run off," JJ replied. "If we push her now, she'll just clam up."

"A re-occurring theme with her," Reid noted. "What if she saw someone who was a danger to her and is keeping quiet again? Are we in danger?"

"I don't think it's that," Hotch began.

"But you don't know," Reid persisted.

"And if it's not that, then there's another problem," Rossi interjected, seeing that the other three men were becoming increasingly angry with each other.

"What's that?" Garcia asked him.

"If Emily didn't see someone who was a danger to her, she saw something that frightened her," Rossi began, ignoring Hotch's warning glance. "If she's still jumpy, and I can't blame her if she was, she won't pass any psych evaluation and the Bureau won't let her come back."

"You think she's suffering from PTSD?" JJ queried.

"Possibly." Rossi could see this is what Hotch was leaning towards and so was Dave himself. They both knew that if Emily had seen someone who was a threat, she wouldn't have run like she did. She would have fought that person, followed him or her, done something but not run. However, if something triggered a frightening memory, her flight instinct might have kicked in and she fled.

"Whatever it is, I'll figure it out and she's not going to confide in me with the rest of you hanging around," Hotch said in a firm voice.

"Why you?" Morgan eyed him suspiciously.

"Because I'm not accusing her of anything or holding onto what happened two years ago against her," Hotch said in a quiet, but firm voice.

Reid and Morgan had the grace to look ashamed while Garcia and JJ nodded, agreeing that Hotch was the best person to handle things. Only Rossi looked steadily at the Unit Leader, but the older man remained quiet.

"If you think you have this handled, Hotch, then Will and I should get Henry home." JJ was already beginning to gather her things.

"I guess Kevin and I should get going too," Garcia replied reluctantly. Sure, she was upset with Emily for playing dead for two years, but today brought back all that pain of loss all over again. Penelope knew what it was like to lose a beloved family member, and unlike her parents, she had a second chance with Emily. That wasn't so clear to her until today knowing she could have lost her friend again. The tech analyst realized it was foolish to hold onto those hurt feelings when there was so much to celebrate. Now, her only concern was to make sure Emily stayed and felt loved and welcomed. She wanted so badly to just wrap her arms around her friend and swath her in cozy knitted things and fill her with fattening treats, just to assure Emily she was safe and loved. But if Hotch and the others felt that his way was the better course, well, maybe they were right. She could still pamper Emily another day and hopefully, the brunette would feel secure enough to open up to her.

Reid and Morgan were not as forgiving as their female friends. The betrayal had run deep with them both. Reid's issues with abandonment had clawed their way back to the surface and while intellectually he understood what Emily did was to protect them, his heart was still that of the little boy watching his father walking away as he was left with his schizophrenic mother.

Morgan was feeling even more conflicted. Of course he was happy Emily was alive and back, they all were. But he couldn't stop the anger that filled him every time he thought about how she didn't confide in him about…anything. And then he realized, she never had. In the two years she had been gone, he thought back over their many conversations. Oh sure, she had told him things about herself. He knew of her rocky relationship with her mother, her love of Kurt Vonnegut, her affection for Sergio, but what did he really know about Emily Prentiss? Nothing.

He had trusted her, and thought she trusted him. It was a blow to Morgan to realize that while he thought that next to Garcia, Emily was his closest friend, she likely did not feel the same. That continued to feed his continued anger and resentment and he wasn't sure how to stop it.

And he was jealous. Jealous that somehow Hotch was able to move beyond these blocks that Morgan was experiencing and be close to Emily. She had almost docilely gone upstairs at his suggestion. She had stepped so easily into Hotch's arms. He knew that the Unit Chief felt something deeper for Emily than mere friendship and he was fine with that, but when did Hotch become the one she leaned on? Why couldn't she confide in him, Derek?

"Morgan," Rossi was murmuring to him quietly. He placed a warm hand on Derek's shoulder. "Go home. She's fine and we'll sort it out later."

Morgan knew that staying longer would solve nothing. The more he pressed, the more Hotch would remain firm in his stance. Nothing would be accomplished. Derek nodded sharply and left the house, following the others out, leaving only Rossi and Hotch in the living room. The older man looked at his friend who steadily returned the gaze.

"You sure you know what you're doing?" Rossi asked.

"Dave, I get your concern. I truly do. But something is troubling, frightening Emily." He explained about her odd reaction to the bookcase which caused the other man to look thoughtfully at him. "I know I promised to hold back and I will, as much as I can. But right now, she needs to know there's someone completely in her corner, watching out for her and assuring her I can be trusted. I can't do that if I don't press her."

"Just don't ask her to give you more than she's capable of right now. Emotionally I mean. Support her, assure her, but don't ask her to feel something for you. Not now. It won't work out for either of you if you do."

"I know," Hotch replied quietly. "You don't realize how hard it is not to tell her how much I missed her and how happy I am that she's back. I can't stand the thought of her being away from me, but I know that will just frighten and confuse her more."

"You can let her know you're happy she's back. I think she needs to hear that now, especially with the way Morgan and Reid are acting."

"I'll have to have a talk with them both," Hotch noted, with a hint of darkness to his voice.

"Don't," Rossi ordered sharply. "This team has been fractured for two years, we need to heal. You're going to have to let Emily work this out with Morgan and Reid on her own. You can't try to solve everything for her. She'll resent you and so will the others. If you want her back on the team and you want her, as a woman, you're going to have to show not only the Bureau, but the rest of the team that you can still function as a leader and not be her boyfriend all the time."

Hotch quelled a retort because he knew Rossi was right. Hell, the Director had warned him to keep their relationship out of the Bureau. If his team thought he would always favor Emily, they would not only begin to resent him, but her as well. He needed to tread so carefully if he wanted this work out.

"I'm going to get going," Rossi said after Hotch reluctantly agreed to allow Emily to work things out with Reid and Morgan on her own. Like he did with Morgan, he clamped a warm, supportive hand on Hotch's shoulder. "She just needs time, we all do. The best gift you can give her right now is your patience and understanding. I know you want to give her more, and you will, once she's had a chance to heal. Once we all have had time to heal." He said good night and left.

It was sound advice, but Hotch couldn't help but feel that there was some urgency, that she could slip away from him again and he would never get a chance to tell her how he felt. Two years ago he saw how easily that could happen and today's events just reminded him of how fleeting everything was.

"Daddy?"

Hotch looked over to where Jack was balancing a tray that had a half-filled bowl of chili, some bread and a cup of hot tea.

"Hey buddy," Hotch said as he hastily took the tray which began to tip dangerously to one side. "This looks great! Why don't we go upstairs and see if Emily is up for eating something?"

* * *

><p>She felt like a coward. Emily closed her bedroom door and leaned against it. She should have explained herself and not left Hotch down there to clean up her mess. But she took the easy way out, the escape he offered her. He was being so good to her, so wonderful and she didn't understand why. Or rather she didn't dare hope what the reason might be.<p>

Emily pushed herself off the door and moved towards her bed. She noticed that Hotch had brought back all of her purchases and piled the bags neatly on the bed. What was also on there was one of Hotch's sweatshirts. It was a faded FBI navy sweat shirt that she and every recruit had owned once before. Her face softened when she touched a sleeve. It had definitely turned colder and Hotch must have suspected that she likely didn't buy anything for pure warmth and comfort. He was right. She had gotten a few causal pieces, but nothing for simply lounging around the house in or something cozy for sleep.

She gathered her things and went into the bathroom. The water helped to warm her up, but she was still feeling cold when she was back in her bedroom so she pulled on the warm sweatshirt over the lounge pants and t-shirt she wore to bed. The sweatshirt was far too big for her, the sleeves going beyond her hands and the hem going well past her thighs. It was clean, but it still had traces of Hotch's scent on it. She couldn't help but inhale deeply, feeling comforted by his masculine scent as she wrapped her arms around herself.

She was running a comb through her damp locks when there was a quiet knock on her door.

"Come in," she called out.

Jack pushed open the door and Hotch followed his son in bearing a tray.

"Emmy, we brought you some dinner," Jack called out cheerily as he plopped himself down on the bed.

She smiled at the boy. "Thank you, that was so sweet of you, but I'm not really hungry."

"How are you feeling? Still cold?" Hotch asked as he set the tray down on the desk. He couldn't help smiling when he saw she was wearing his sweatshirt. It nearly swallowed her entire frame but Hotch thought she looked adorable.

"A little. The shower helped a lot."

"The food will do the rest," he replied easily. "We have a little of that chili you made and some hot tea."

"Hotch…," she sighed.

"Jack actually put the tray together for you," was Hotch's clinching argument.

Emily looked at the boy's proud face and relented. She had no appetite, but she couldn't disappoint the boy.

"I'll have some but I don't like to eat alone. Why don't we all eat downstairs?"

"That sounds like a very good idea," Hotch smiled at her.

* * *

><p>Hotch was happy to note that Emily ate some dinner. Not as much as she did at lunch, but far more than she had been eating in the previous nights. Will had given Jack his dinner earlier so he provided a stream of entertaining chatter. Before they took the tray up to Emily, Hotch had spoken to his son about questioning Emily on what happened this afternoon. The boy had understood and nodded solemnly. The subject was avoided during their meal and he could see some of the tension leave Emily's body.<p>

Hotch insisted he do the few dishes as Jack, Emily and Sergio settled onto the couch to watch _Toy Story_. When he came out of the kitchen, Jack was slumped against the brunette, fast asleep. Aaron smiled at the picture they made, Emily with her arm wrapped protectively around his son, her other hand stroking Jack's blond hair as he slept, the cat curled up against the boy. It was the picture of perfect domestic bliss.

Hotch wanted this. He wanted her. He wanted this to be their nights, to be their days, to be them. He wanted this woman to be in his life like this, as a part of his family. He walked over towards them and squatted down behind the couch so he could rest his arms on the back of it and be level with Emily.

"He's had a long day," Hotch murmured.

"No thanks to me," Emily sighed. She turned her head to look at her former supervisor, regrets clouding her dark eyes. "I'm sorry for running off like that without any explanation."

"Let me put Jack to bed and we can talk," Hotch told her. "If you feel ready to do so." He straightened up and came around the front of the couch. He easily swooped Jack up in his arms.

"I owe you an explanation," Emily admitted.

Hotch paused and looked at her. "Emily, you don't owe me anything. I'm here for you. If you want to talk, I'll listen. I'll do whatever you need for me to do. Just don't ever feel you have to owe me." He smiled at her and then carried Jack upstairs to his room, Sergio padding after them.

Emily stared at his retreating back, blinking in surprise at his words. Who was this man? The Hotch she knew was loathed to get too personally involved in anyone else's life, especially his teammates. Part of it was respect, but she also suspected it was his way of keeping his distance from everyone else. He couldn't act as their leader and be their best friend. They all understood that, but it made for a removed relationship between them.

Now he was asking her to just trust him with her deepest, darkest fears? Emily shook her head. She couldn't. She didn't know this Hotch. She didn't understand this Hotch. Trust was hard enough for her, but to trust one who felt like a stranger to her that was impossible.

She heard his footsteps as he came down the stairs and back into the living room. The sofa cushions dipped as he sat down. Emily turned her head to look at him as he sat next to her.

"Okay, do you want to talk about what happened this afternoon?" he asked quietly.

Emily sighed and looked off to the side. Hotch tensed slightly, noting her tell. He reached out to touch her hand and draw her attention back to him. "Emily?"

His eyes looked so warm, so inviting, encouraging her to tell him everything, but she just couldn't.

So she settled for a half-truth.

"The two years in hiding, were difficult," she began haltingly. "Sometimes I just have memories of that time. Back at the restaurant something just brought back some memories."

It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the truth either. Hotch quelled a sigh of frustration, but he couldn't blame her. Before she left, his relationship with Emily was friendly, but not close. She didn't share confidences with him then why should he expect her to do so now?

_Patience_, he could hear Rossi's voice in his head.

"What was it?" Hotch asked. "What brought back your memories?"

She hesitated, but finally admitted reluctantly, "A photo. Of a door. It just reminded me of Europe. Of my time there." She shivered and brought her knees up to her chest. Her arms wrapped around her legs and she hugged herself to try to warm up.

"I know you were responsible for disrupting Doyle's network while you were there. It must have been difficult, and dangerous."

"I did what I had to," Emily said shortly as she unfolded herself and stood up. She walked over towards the front window and stared out into the cold, still night. She pulled the sweatshirt tighter around herself.

Wearing the far too big sweatshirt made her look even smaller and more fragile. It took all of Hotch's will power to not wrap his arms around her. He settled for standing close behind her like he did the other night. He could smell her freshly washed hair. The scent of fresh strawberries, ripe and sweet, wafted to his nose and he inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of her. He felt his gut tighten and a frisson of heat travel through his body. Hotch inched closer, just centimeters from being pressed up against her. He bent his head to speak softly into her ear, his breath stirring the silky strands of her hair.

"Talk to me, Em."

The low rumble of his baritone was like fine scotch, a smooth burn that went down her spine, making her want to melt and shiver at the same time. She could feel her body sway slightly back and she felt herself lean slightly into Hotch's solid, warm body.

The touch of her body against his shattered all his will and he couldn't help it as his hands came up to gently massage her shoulders and his nose buried itself into her damp silky hair that had begun to curl into loose, long waves.

"You know you can trust me," he said softly into her ear.

"Why?" she mumbled. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because I care about you." His lips had moved to her temple. "I care about you so much. Talk to me, Emily."

God, she wanted to confide in him as she leaned further back against Hotch. It would be so good to be able to talk to someone, to have someone tell her it would be okay, that it wasn't her fault. And she felt so warm and safe with him. She had been so cold and alone for so long that she almost didn't recognize this feeling.

With a will power she didn't know she possessed, Emily stepped away from him and instantly felt cold again. But she had to. She couldn't drag Hotch into the mess of her life, her past, especially not now when she wasn't sure of her futre. She had to do what she's always done, and that's work it out herself.

She crossed her arms in front of her. "I'm sorry, Hotch," she whispered, her eyes downcast. "I appreciate the offer, but it's nothing you need to worry about."

He took a step towards her and held her shoulders in his hands. "Hey, look at me." When she slowly lifted her head. "I will always worry about you because I…care about you. But I understand if you're not ready to share. Just know I'm here when you are."

Tears began to prick her eyes so she dropped her head once more so he couldn't see them. However, she leaned towards Hotch again and he drew her against him until her head was tucked snugly under his chin, her nose brushing against the skin of his neck. He felt the tickle of a tear as it seeped out of her eye and onto his skin. One arm wrapped securely around her as the other hand buried itself in her soft hair.

"I will always be here for you, Emily," he whispered. "Nothing you can tell me or say to me will drive me away. I am here, I always will be."

"Thank you."

"Anything for you, my Emily."

She would have time to dissect what he meant by "my Emily", but for now, she was just content to be held, warm and safe.

* * *

><p><strong>AN 2: For those who are looking for the Profiler's Choice nominees and how to vote, you can find it at:**

**topic/ 74868/73609377/1/ 2012-Profiler-s-Choice-CM-Awards-FINAL-VOTING-BALLOT-HERE**

**Just remove the spaces. There are a lot of very good authors/stories nominated so show your support by voting!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I know, this is the equivalent of an avalanche of updates from me, but I am declaring this Thanksgiving weekend, a no-work weekend so I can concentrate on fic writing, making Christmas presents, sleeping, etc. Plus I have a cold so I'm staying indoors. For those who actually started following me on Twitter when I mentioned last week that you might see some interesting tweets this past weekend, you know that I was at a special recording of Beyond Belief, the Thrilling Adventure Hour, and got to meet and talk with Paget Brewster in person. Yes, she's wonderful, gracious, funny and down to Earth. She was actually there EARLY helping them set up. I mean, helping them unpack and everything. Plus she's incredibly kind and generous with the fans and probably is the most adorable person you will ever meet. And if you think she looks gorgeous on TV, she's actually about a hundred times prettier and younger looking in person. Oh, and Criminal Minds' wardrobe lady needs to be shot. Paget is truly (and she wasn't wearing tight clothing) about half the size in real life than what they made her look like on the show. Anyway, on with the story!**

* * *

><p>His dark eyes always warmed with pleasure when he looked at her and when he smiled, she couldn't help but return it with one of her own. He held out his hand to her and she gave him hers. His much larger one engulfed hers in a warm, gentle grip. Her smile widened. Emily knew she was meant to be with this man. He loved her so completely, so totally, how could she have any doubts about his feelings for her or about them?<p>

"Emily," he murmured softly as he pulled her into his embrace.

Her smaller body fit so perfectly against his tall, muscular frame, as though she was made to be tucked against him, to be a part of him. And when he held her, she knew there was no other place she would ever want to be than with him.

"Emily."

His warm breath tickled her ear and his deep baritone rumbled in his chest, sending pleasant vibrations through her body. She practically purred as she burrowed closer into him, inhaling his woodsy, masculine scent.

"You know what I need you to do, Emily."

She frowned, not liking his tone and she turned her head fully into his chest, hiding her face in the soft folds of his sweater as if hiding her head like an ostrich would make what she knew was something she did not want to hear go away.

"You'll be perfectly safe, but you're our only chance to catch him. I need you to do this, Emily."

She sighed and nodded, knowing she had to do this even though warning bells were ringing furiously in her head. This was a mistake, a part of her was screaming at her, a very bad mistake.

Suddenly, the warm arms were gone and she was back in that damp, dark Hell hole. She looked around wildly and screamed his name, but it wasn't the warm, baritone that called out comfortingly to her. It was the cold, metallic, lifeless voice she thought would never hear again.

"Did you think you could leave me so easily?" it hissed at her.

Emily woke up drenched in a cold sweat, a scream trapped in her throat. She fought with the tangled sheets and blankets and nearly fell off the bed in her struggle. Her heart pounding, she realized she wasn't back _there_. She was safe, here in Hotch's house.

Hotch.

Emily wanted to smack herself silly. How could she have been so stupid last night? How could she have been so vulnerable in front of him? She shouldn't have showed Hotch that weakness. She knew better, was taught better. Showing your vulnerabilities got you killed. Leaning too much on someone got you killed. Emily had learned the hard way that to survive she could only count on herself. The last time she had relied on someone else, she almost wound up dead.

Emily swore to herself she would not make that mistake again.

* * *

><p>Hotch walked downstairs with a light heart and a spring in his step. After last night, holding Emily in his arms, he truly felt as if they were going closer, that she was beginning to trust him again and maybe, just maybe, she would open up to him soon and tell him about the demons plaguing her.<p>

His euphoria disappeared the moment he hit the bottom of the stairs and saw Emily's things packed neatly by the door. Hotch frowned and looked from the bag to the woman herself who was putting a note on top of the television.

"You weren't even going to say goodbye to Jack?" he asked in a harsh voice.

"It's better this way."

"For who?"

"For everyone," she replied calmly. "We both knew this was a temporary arrangement. I got a call this morning that my aunt's house is ready for me to move into."

"I didn't hear the phone ring."

"Of course not. When my mother sent over some money she also provided a cell phone. She called me on that number."

It was as if she had been planning to escape some prison. Hotch couldn't help but feel some irritation. Did she find being here with him and Jack such an inconvenience? What else was she keeping from him?

"I appreciate you opening up your home to me, Hotch," she said in a soft voice. "But I need my own place, my own space. I-, I have a lot to think about, to decide and I need a quiet place to do it. A place with no distractions."

"Is that all Jack and I are to you? Distractions?" He couldn't keep the bitter tone out of his voice.

"You're both good people who deserve a good life. You deserve something better," she said in a quiet voice. She tried to hurry past him but Hotch reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her.

"What if I've found that something better," he murmured, trying to get her to look at him, but she stubbornly refused.

"Then I can only tell you to keep looking, because you're wrong." Emily shrugged off his hand and moved towards her bag. She picked it up, opened the front door and hurried out to the taxi that was waiting in front of the house.

Hotch followed her out and watched as she got into the taxi. Once the door was closed behind her, the cab pulled away and made its way down the street until it turned a corner and disappeared from sight. Not once did Emily look back. It was a while before Hotch went back inside the house.

* * *

><p>She wasn't answering his calls, his text messages or her front door. After Emily left his house last week, Hotch had to explain to Jack why she was suddenly gone. His son took it better than Aaron thought he would. Jack had looked at him with serious eyes and nodded his head.<p>

"I think Emmy is looking for something," the little boy had replied.

"Looking for something?"

"That's why she ran away yesterday at the mall. I think she's lost something and is looking for it. It's why she had to leave, because she needs to go find it."

Hotch had his own ideas of why Emily left, but if his son believed Emily was on some search and he didn't feel abandoned, he wasn't about to correct the child. The man merely nodded and said that Emily's note indicated that she wanted Jack to continue taking care of Sergio. That had made the boy happy. The child and cat had become nearly inseparable.

"When can we visit Emmy?"

"I think we need to give her a few days to settle into her new house and then we'll give her a call."

Hotch lasted 24 hours before he was calling Emily. Elizabeth Prentiss had readily given him the number of the cell phone she had given to her daughter as well as the address of the house she moved into, but Emily was ignoring him. He had resorted to having Rossi and JJ try contacting her but she had not returned their calls either.

After a week had passed, Hotch finally found time to go over to the new house which was located on a leafy, quiet block in Georgetown. The house was a stately, three storied brownstone with perfectly manicured bushes and neat flower boxes adoring the front. The small wrought iron gate that surrounded the small front yard was there for decoration, but it was perfectly maintained, a matte black with each bar straight and symmetrical. When Hotch opened the gate door, it swung silently on well-oiled hinges and closed quietly behind him.

It was early evening and he would have thought Emily would be in, but he couldn't be certain. He didn't know what she was doing or who she was seeing. None of the team had heard from her since that Saturday he had assembled them to help him search for her at the mall. Hotch wasn't the only one miffed at her lack of communication.

Ambassador Prentiss, who was still pressing Hotch to maintain a close watch over her daughter, was also at a loss. The day after Emily had moved into the house she had phoned her mother to thank her for arranging everything and to discuss a few more details about her re-entry into the world, essentially the paperwork involved in making her "un-dead" in all official records. That had preoccupied Emily those first few days after her move, but by the third day, Hotch knew via the Ambassador that everything was completed. So what was Emily doing the last few days?

He held off as long as he could. Jack was at a sleep over and Hotch's evening was free. He drove to the brownstone and he found himself continuously knocking on a door that looked like it would never be answered.

"Agent Hotchner."

Hotch stiffened when he heard the familiar voice and slowly turned around to face Emily's father, Robert Jones of the CIA, the man who got Emily embroiled in the spy game in the first place.

"Director Jones," Hotch bit out, his dislike and distaste for the man making him barely civil.

"What are you doing here, Agent?"

"I'm looking for Emily, obviously," Hotch replied in a cool voice. He felt his heart beat faster. Was Jones the reason why Emily had been so quiet the last few days? Did the bastard drag his daughter back into the spy game?

"She's not here."

"I can see that. Where is she and is she okay?" Aaron was growing even more concerned with each passing second.

"Emily has been going through psych evaluations the last three days at the Agency."

"What?! Why the Hell is the Agency doing the psych eval? Who ordered it to be done so soon? Why wasn't I informed?" Hotch was livid. She was supposed to come back to the Bureau and not have anything to do with the Agency that left her to fend for herself as a madman stalked and nearly killed her.

"Calm down, Hotchner," sighed the older man. "It was a joint evaluation by the Bureau and the Agency. The Agency was merely involved in an observatory role. It's standard procedure given Emily's history with both agencies and her clearance. The CIA needed to make certain she didn't spill any of its secrets. Don't ask me why your own agency failed to inform you this was happening." He pulled out a key and unlocked the front door. "Come in and sit down. It's cold out tonight."

It bothered Hotch that this man had a key to Emily's home. He knew Jones was Emily's father, but he had allowed his daughter to go on a mission where she had to seduce a dangerous terrorist and be alone with that man for long periods of time. He also had allowed that same man to come after her and nearly kill her, twice. In Hotch's eyes, Jones was only another danger to Emily and he would be damned if he allowed the man, father or not, to put her in danger again.

Jones didn't wait to see if Hotch followed him inside, as he stepped into the house and crossed the small foyer to an opposite wall where he quickly punched in a code into the electronic security system. Hotch followed him, closing the door behind him. Jones still didn't bother to look at the younger man, but instead led the way to the living room that was at the front of the house and looked out into the street. He switched on some lights and before he sat down.

"Make yourself at home," Jones gestured towards a chair opposite from where he sat.

Warily, Hotch sat, suspicious of why Jones would want to talk to him and anxious to know where Emily was. "Where is she?"

"Today is her last day at evaluations. The psych portion at least. She's still going to need a few weeks before she's ready to tackle the physical. They've had her staying at the facility where the evaluation is being done which is why she isn't here."

"Then why are you here?"

"Just checking up on the place," Jones replied. He looked around. "This house actually used to belong to my family. I remember visiting here often as a boy. I just wanted to see what Emily might have done with the place."

"I highly doubt nostalgia brought you out tonight," Hotch said in a dry voice. "What's the real reason? Was there some issue with Emily's psych evaluation?"

"No, she passed with flying colors," Jones said slowly. He peered intently at Hotch. "Tell me what happened at the mall last week."

Hotch had perfected his poker face and not one ounce of surprise was shown on his features though his heart had begun to pound again. It wasn't Emily her father wanted to see tonight, it was Hotch. Jones knew he would be here and took advantage of this opportunity to talk to him. Why? Hotch's voice was level and even. "I don't know what you mean."

"Don't play games with me, Hotchner!" Jones snapped. "I know Emily ran off, practically bolted away from you and you had to call your team out to find her. I want to know what happened."

"How do you know what happened?"

"I'm a spy. It's what I do."

Hotch started to rise from his chair and his voice was harsh and menacing, "You're spying on your own daughter?!"

"Sit down!" Jones ordered the other man. "I am not spying on her, but your friend LaMontagne wasn't as discreet as he thought when talking to his police officer friends. Fortunately, I think I stopped any potential gossip about that incident, but I need to know what frightened my daughter and if there is still a real threat against her out there."

Hotch settled slowly back into his chair and hesitated. Hotch disliked the man, but he was Emily's father and he could detect no duplicity from him, just genuine concern for her. Plus he knew the most damning thing already that Emily had had an episode that caused her to bolt in fear. Perhaps Jones could even shed some light on what was truly bothering her.

"She said it was a photo she saw that reminded her of her time in Europe when she was hiding from Doyle. It brought back unpleasant memories."

"A photo?" Jones repeated in a dumbfounded voice. "What photo?"

"She said it was of a door. We were having lunch at TGI Friday's. I don't know if you've ever been in one, but it's a chain restaurant that's overloaded with knickknacks, pictures, a motley collection of items. She had gone to the ladies' room and was on her way back to the table when she saw the photo."

"Did you ever go back to see what it looked like?"

Hotch nodded. "Of course I did. I retraced her steps to and from the restrooms. I only found one photo of a door along that route." He fished his cell phone out of his pocket and scrolled through the photos on it before pulling up one. He showed Jones the picture.

Hotch watched the man closely as his lips tightened ever so slightly. His expression didn't change, but the older man could not control the loss of pallor in his face. He knew what the door meant to Emily and whatever it was, it worried and maybe even frightened him too.

"What is it?" Hotch asked in a quiet voice. "Why does this door trouble her so much?"

"It's not this exact door, but one similar to it," Jones murmured as he handed Hotch back his phone. He settled back into his chair and sighed. "It is an unpleasant memory and that's all it is."

"I need to know what it is if I'm going to help her."

"It's in the past. Irrelevant," Jones said in a dismissive tone as he suddenly stood up.

"It's not irrelevant if it's still haunting her!"

"Aren't you being a tad melodramatic, Agent Hotchner?" Jones said as he started to walk towards the front door. "Emily just had a reminder of an unpleasant time. She's completely fine now. It was a momentary incident."

"She bolted out of that restaurant and mall in fear. Her flight instinct kicked into high gear." Hotch blocked Jones' path. "I have never seen Emily run from anything. She faced Doyle head on each time, she's looked into the face of horror and mayhem and never flinched. Whatever frightened her is serious and I want to know what it is."

"Leave it alone, Hotchner. I can assure you that it's in the past, long dead and buried. Emily just needs to concentrate on her future."

"Like she did after, Doyle? We know how that turned out."

Jones had just opened the door to usher Hotch out so he could re-set the alarm. He paused and sighed. "My daughter is very private, you know that. If she wishes to give you more details, that's her decision. I will say this, that if it is what I suspect, then there's no chance of Emily being in any physical danger like she was with Doyle. It's just unpleasant memories. She's dealt with them in the past and she'll deal with them again. My daughter is strong, Agent Hotchner, and she knows how to protect herself."

"She's doing that by isolating and cutting herself off from everyone," Hotch spat out bitterly.

"She's trying to find her footing." Jones sighed. "She needs to rebuild her life now and she needs to do it in her own way. Whether you approve of how she's doing it is irrelevant." He peered closely at Hotch. "After all, you are only her former supervisor."

"And a friend," Hotch added quickly, though he did feel the sting that he didn't have more standing to insist that Jones tell him more. He wasn't married to Emily or engaged or even dating her.

Jones eyes narrowed as he examined Hotch's face closely. "But you want something more with her."

It wasn't a question and Hotch wasn't going to explain himself to Jones of all people.

The CIA man took a step closer to Hotch and lowered his voice. "You're ambitious Aaron Hotchner. I know all about you. Strauss may have thrown a few blocks into your path, but I know that drive is still inside of you. Emily doesn't need that kind of man."

"You don't know me and you don't know you're daughter. I believe whatever we decide our relationship is going to be is our business." Hotch's temper was on edge, but he was also curious about Jones' reaction. Something else was plaguing the man and it was more than just a protective father warning off his daughter's potential suitors.

"I know enough," Jones growled. "Believe me, you hurt my daughter and I will crush you!"

"Well, we see how effective you were in doing that to the man who almost killed her twice." With that parting shot, Hotch spun around and sent out the open front door and walked swiftly towards his car, leaving a fuming Robert Jones in his wake.

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><p><strong>AN 2: For those who are looking for the Profiler's Choice nominees and how to vote, you can find it at:**

**topic/ 74868/73609377/1/ 2012-Profiler-s-Choice-CM-Awards-FINAL-VOTING-BALLOT-HERE**

**Just remove the spaces. There are a lot of very good authors/stories nominated so show your support by voting!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I just want to thank everyone who voted for me in the Profiler's Choice awards. I'm so honored and touched that you thought my stories were worthy enough. I'm especially thrilled that I won for the Best Emily Prentiss characterization/story for "My Girlfriend is a Serial Killer". She is my favorite so winning in that category is especially dear to me. I'm also just completely stunned and pleased "A Rose By Any Other Name" won for best crossover. Thank you so much and always, thank you for your patience as I slowly update these stories.**

**So we're learning more about why Emily has been so freaked out lately and why she seems to be pushing Hotch away. There is a reason! Enjoy!**

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><p>"So you feel ready to go back?"<p>

Emily leaned back into her armchair, the picture of calm professionalism, and regarded the woman before her. Dr. Marguerite Tremaine was one of the CIA's approved psychiatrists. In fact, she was the top psychiatrist at the Agency with a security clearance that rivaled the President's, perhaps exceeded it. She knew where all the skeletons were buried and likely helped make sure many of them stayed buried. She alone had the power to decide whether to allow an agent back into the field or retire them.

When deciding who would interview and determine if Emily would be fit for duty, the CIA had not trusted anyone on the Bureau's payroll. Emily knew too much, had seen too much and needed someone with a sufficient security clearance to interview her. The Agency insisted on using one of their own and when presented with Dr. Tremaine's qualifications and her security clearance level, there was very little the FBI could say against it.

Emily had her own reasons for not wanting Marguerite to be her judge, jury and potential executioner. They knew each other too well. Prentiss was skilled enough to fool practically any psychiatrist. The ones at the Bureau were child's play for her, but Marguerite, nothing got past her. It was why she was so good.

For the past three days, Emily had to be at her sharpest and most alert. There would be no appealing Dr. Tremaine's decision. If she thought you were burnt out and a liability, you were out and would be lucky to have a desk job in your future. With the memories and nightmares that were becoming all too frequent these days haunting her at night and sometimes in the day, it would be difficult hiding all that from the brilliant doctor, especially since Tremaine knew all about that part of Emily's history.

"Yes, at least for light desk duty. I think I might still have about a week or so to recover physically," was Emily's measured reply. She was showing she was ready but thoughtful about her return to not push it by admitting some minor issue that wouldn't be a strike against her.

"You have performed admirably in the two years you were away and essentially operating alone and as a free agent," Marguerite continued, her hands resting comfortably on her chair's arms. She never took notes during any of her sessions nor made any recordings. Her memory rivaled Reid's, but she remembered everything that was said. The lack of note taking could be comforting to a patient or disconcerting. Emily found it disconcerting. Tremaine's green eyes, her most striking feature and the only thing that remotely gave away what she could be thinking, sharpened. "Two years without answering to anyone. Disrupting Doyle's networks. No rules, no restraints."

"Are you asking if I've acquired a taste for being a rogue agent?" Emily allowed just the slightest hint of amusement into her voice to indicate it was an amusing, but irrelevant to her case. She shook her head. "No. I actually didn't enjoy being out there alone." That was the truth and she allowed a small glimpse of that vulnerability to show through to convince Tremaine even more of her sincerity and readiness to be back at the BAU.

"Still this entire situation must have brought back some…unpleasant memories."

_Shit_, Emily thought, she was going to go there, but she knew Tremaine would.

"If you're talking about Rome, I assure you that is still far behind me and I've dealt with that a long time ago." Her voice sounded firm, quiet and confident.

"Have you, Emily? Remember, I was the one you spoke to after Doyle, a mission you should not have been sent on. It was too soon after Rome, and those experiences were compounded with what you experienced with Doyle. After what just happened, surely you must see my concern for you now and whether Rome is playing a role."

"I was cleared both after Rome and Doyle," Emily replied firmly. "You know I put Rome completely to bed."

"My recommendation after Rome was for you to take time off, but Saville went against me and assigned you to Doyle far too soon. I remember how you were after you came back, Emily." Those green eyes were appraising her again. "I can't believe memories of Rome haven't surfaced after what's happened the past few weeks, or really the past two years."

"They haven't," was Emily's expert lie.

"And Agent Hotchner's presence in your life hasn't triggered anything?"

That caught Emily off guard. "What? Hotch? What do you know about Hotch? He has nothing to do with this!" As soon as she heard herself say those words, Prentiss mentally kicked herself. She had been doing so well for three days and now at the end, she lets Tremaine see a crack.

"He bears a striking resemblance to-"

"It's not like that with Agent Hotchner," Emily interrupted, anxious to get the discussion off of Hotch and _him_. Her mind began to work rapidly and she could feel the beginnings of perspiration. Why were there questions about Hotch? Was he still under scrutiny by the Bureau? By CIA? "He's been a concerned friend, but that's it. I'm not involved like I was with…him."

God, she couldn't even say his name, but whether she wanted to admit it or not Rome had left its lasting mark on her. It shaped her and _he_ shaped her in ways that she didn't want to consider. But all of that was in the past, and not relevant to her life now.

"Emily," Marguerite's voice dropped into a low, sympathetic tone. "It's alright to still be affected by what happened in Rome. That was horrific experience and what he did-"

"Is in the past and I assure you, I don't have that type of relationship with Agent Hotchner. The only similarities the two men share are that they're both tall and have dark hair."

"And are driven, ambitious, intelligent, men who personify the alpha male. Just your type."

It had to be a tactic to throw her off. Emily calmed herself down, knowing if she showed any break, it would be an excuse for Tremaine to recommend against her. She tried to take as deep of a breath as possible without making it look like she was doing that and said in a calm, neutral voice. "Perhaps, but he wasn't my supervisor at the time while Agent Hotchner would be. No, I've known Hotch too long and trust me, nothing will ever happen between us."

Dr. Tremaine regarded Emily thoughtfully for a few seconds and then that silence stretched out to almost a full minute. She then stood abruptly, catching Emily off guard once again.

"I think I have enough for my report. Thank you for your time and cooperation these last three days, Emily. I know how trying this is, but you understand we need to be absolutely certain before we allow you back into the field." She held out her hand for Emily to shake, ending the session and dismissing the brunette.

Emily blinked at her and rose slowly. As she shook the other woman's hand, she asked, "When will I hear the results?"

"My report will be done by the end of the week. When the Bureau chooses to inform you of their decision, I don't know that answer." She looked closely at Prentiss. "You are doing no one any favors if you ignore issues, Emily."

"Who's ignoring them?" was Prentiss' flip reply.

Dr. Tremaine allowed one corner of her mouth to lift up. "People can fool themselves, but they can't fool me."

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><p><strong>AN 2: Oh, oh, what happened in Rome and who is "him"? Things will be revealed soon.**


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